Taking the Long Way
by hannahmicah
Summary: What happened when Jim left Pam alone in Scranton? Did he really think she wouldn't find a different shoulder to cry on?
1. Chapter 1: Present

**Chapter 1**

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! This is my very first fanfic, and I probably wouldn't even be writing it if I weren't so disgusted with the absolute lack of Pam and Ryan stories out there :) You don't have to read this if you don't like my pairing, and I doubt very many people do, but I don't know. Sometimes I just think Jim and Pam are so perfect that it's not even fun anymore. Honestly, the majority of the time I watch the show, I'm just in awe of all the Jim/Pam moments and my heart gives little flutters and my lips form a smile. But occasionally, there are just some Ryan and Pam glimpses and I'm just like "Aw!" I really started liking them in the Michael Scott Paper Company saga. Like the way Ryan says "Hey you," when Pam runs into his bowling alley. Or when Michael's on the phone with Dwight and doesn't understand Dwight's analogy, and Pam and Ryan just sit there pointing to her little notebook. That was the first scene where I was like "Oooh, I think I've found a new secret obsession!" Because for me, when my two favorite characters get together, I feel like my "mission" or whatever is over. Like everyone else, I loved Jim and Pam and I was rooting for them to get together when they weren't. But now they are, and it just doesn't seem as exciting. I don't know. But don't knock Ryan and Pam until you've tried them. Or until you've read my story :D

Anyway, this story's going to consist of present-time posts and flashback posts. The flashbacks are going to take place after Jim leaves for Stamford, and the present-day posts start with The Office episode Dream Team. I'll alternate present-day posts and flashback posts with each update, starting with the present. In quite a few chapters I've written, I've taken lines straight from the dialogue of the episode I'm writing about. And sometimes I changed them a bit. So hopefully no one gets upset about that. And this is centered mainly around Pam, so the majority of statements in italics will be her thoughts. Later on, I might do a couple of posts focused on Ryan (or Jim), but right now it's all Pam. I'll let you know if it changes. By the way, author's notes won't be this long ever again. I just felt the need to defend my Ryan and Pam pairing and explain what my story will be like.

Lalala, I don't own anything. Enjoy!

"Michael, I really think we should try to do something," Pam paused, sighing. "Now." It had been a couple days since she had quit her job as a receptionist at Dunder Mifflin, and now she was sitting in Michael Scott's condo, watching him perform a meager workout in a robe that barely covered his… dangling participle. He turned slightly to look into her eyes.

"Uh, in case you haven't noticed, _Pam," _he sassily replied. Since she had dumped egg all over him earlier, his tone hadn't been so friendly. "I am doing something. I'm strengthening my core. All my cores." She sighed once more and looked at the list clutched in her hand.

_1. Work out. _

_2. Eat an enormous breakfast… _

she had scrawled, and a check mark was sarcastically placed beside each number. She bit her lip before adding a third item to the notebook.

_3. Call Charles to beg for my job back._

Michael got up from his machinery and Pam tore her eyes away from the words.

"Yeah, you are. But I thought maybe we could do something that had more to do with the Michael Scott Paper Company. Or get you dressed! Which would actually help some of the members in the Michael Scott Paper Company…" Pam muttered that last part so he couldn't hear. She had seen his baguette (as Jim had called it) once before, and definitely didn't want to go through that again.

Michael grunted in response, and she knew she hadn't gotten anywhere. "Something like what, Pam!? I can't run my own paper company! What were we thinking? This whole thing was a mistake. We can't do this. _I _can't do this. I deserve to have egg in my Crocs." Pam sighed again. She had probably sighed more times today, in her boss's living room, than she had in her entire life. But this sigh was different. This wasn't a "I'm so angry at you, Michael" sigh. It was more like her "You're not a failure, Michael" sigh. She knelt beside him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He turned his face away from her, obviously ashamed.

"Michael, maybe you're right." His head whipped toward her face so quickly, Pam had gotten whiplash just watching. Obviously he was expecting to hear one of her "It will be okay" talks. "Maybe we did make a mistake by quitting Dunder Mifflin. And maybe we _can't _do this. But we'll never know unless we _try." _The two sat in silence for a while as Pam's words sunk into Michael's mind. Suddenly, he stood up with an air of confidence. She got to her feet as well and picked up the discarded list. "So?"

"So," he responded confidently, easing her tension a little. "Let's do something. Let's land a hundred clients." Her apprehension returned and she sighed another time.

"That seems a little impossible. Why don't we try something smaller?" He glared at her for a moment before wiping the expression from his face.

"Fine, Pamcake." She smiled a little at the nickname. Maybe things would be a little more normal soon. "Let's… Assemble a sales team. A dream team!" Her smile grew wider as she asked who and got her pen and notebook ready. "Any chance Jim will come on board?" he asked, hopeful.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Michael," she sympathetically replied.

"What about Dwight!? Dwight loves me. Of course he'll join us! …Right?" Pam bit her lip at the thought. Working with Dwight again? Well, it would make the new job feel more like home. She shuddered at that thought. _Mental note: __**never **__think of Dwight as "home" again. _She thought about the possibly of Dwight coming to join their company with a more… professional stance. As much as Dwight _did _love Michael, his loyalty ran deeper than Michael understood. Pam knew he wouldn't give up his job.

"Why don't we try to think about hiring people that don't currently work for Dunder Mifflin?"

"You're right, you're right. That's why I brought you with me, Pamsicle!" Michael exclaimed. Pam decided not to remind him that she quit her secretarial job to become a saleswoman, not that he really brought her with him. "Ummmm," Michael hummed as he paced his living room. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and whirled toward Pam with such an excitement in his eyes that she had to smile back. "I've got it! Ryan!" The grin left her face as quickly as it had appeared.

"What? No. No, Michael. We're not hiring Ryan," she replied. She attempted to sound as strong as she normally does, but her voice came out weak and small. It had cracked when she whispered her former coworker's name. Luckily, Michael was too excited about the prospect of working with his so-called "prodigy" again that he hadn't noticed.

"Oh, come on, Pam!" he squealed. "It's Ryan! It's **perfect!**" Michael's eyes shone with admiration and enthusiasm. "Look, Ryan is smart." _I know. _"Ryan is talented." _I know. _"Ryan is confident." _I know. _"Ryan is char… caris… crismat…"

"Charismatic?" she supplied.

"Yes!" He shouted, pointing at her mouth for professing such a brilliant statement. "Yes, Ryan is charis… Ryan is that thing." _I know. _"And Ryan is sexy."

_I know._


	2. Chapter 2: Flashback

**Author's Note:** Alright guys, hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This is my first flashback post, and I'll alternate past and present with each post. So, next time will be the continuation of my first chapter. If that makes sense. And, I decided to do all my present-day posts from Pam's perspective, but I'm doing the flashbacks from Ryan's. Well, at least this first flashback is centered on Ryan. I don't know how far that will go, but we'll see. I just thought it would be nice to sort of look at their relationship from both sides. Plus, I couldn't think of a good opening sentence about Pam. That was my main reason for the switch J ALSO, Pam and Ryan will seem very different in these flashbacks than in the present. Because obviously, the characters grew up between the two times, and I wanted that to reflect in my story.

Also, little side note. Jim did the whole Stamford thing before Ryan moved up to corporate, right? The timeline is a little fuzzy to me. But I'm pretty sure Jim came back, and then Ryan got promoted a short while later. That's right, right? And, I don't think that Ryan worked in the annex before Jim left, but he did in my story. Cause he moves from the annex to Jim's old desk. But anyway, if someone could 100% clear the whole Ryan-corporate/Jim-Stamford thing that would be great!

These author's notes will never be this long again, hahah. Seriously, they're like the same length as my story! But right now I need to kind of "introduce" you to the story, so yeah. That's why they're all long. And sorry this chapter is all short. It looked so much longer in my Word document /: Still own nothing.

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Her eyes were drilling holes into his head again. Even though he could hardly see her face through his peripheral vision, he could just tell she was staring at him. She always did, ever since he moved up from the annex. At the beginning, he always turned to look back at her with a puzzled expression on his face. Sometimes she glanced away quickly, her cheeks brightening as she pretended to look over a fax or answer a nonexistent phone call. Other times she kept looking at him, as if in a trance. Lately, he had been ignoring it. Her staring had become another weird quirk that came with this ridiculous job.

Her staring wasn't _really_ a weird quirk, though. That was just what he filed it under in his brain. It was more like a …sad quirk. Not pathetic sad. But sad like a parent shutting themselves in their daughter's bedroom after she dies in a freak accident. But he didn't have a folder for "it's like child-death-sad" quirks in his mind. And it wasn't just staring. Sometimes, during one of their boss's pointless meetings, she'd turn at him and laugh, or bury her head in his shoulder when Michael did something disgusting. At the beginning, like the stares, he just looked at her like she was crazy. Michael's jokes aren't funny, there's no reason to be laughing. I've never said two words to you in my life, you shouldn't be hugging my arm for security. But now, he simply lets her do what she wants. He'll pretend to laugh with her, even if he had tuned out the meeting and had no idea what was going on. Sometimes he grabbed her hand in comfort when their boss attempted to perform some hideous act. He surprisingly liked these moments. They were the only time during the day she showed some life. As if laughing through the meetings would bring that one person back. As if giving subtle faces to the camera would make it feel like that one person was with her.

They eat lunch together most days. Occasionally he'll be out on a sales call with Dwight or Stanley, and he wondered what she did on those afternoons. Who she sat with, what they talked about. What flavor of yogurt she was eating. At the beginning, all she ate was Mixed Berry. He wasn't sure why. Lately, she had been branching out. He believed her new favorite was Peach. He liked peaches. Sometimes she shared.

They never really talk, however. She didn't really talk to anyone. Only Angela sometimes, which was weird. And Kelly chatted her ear off, but she never responded. Nodded her head occasionally, but never let a word slip out. He only heard her say "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," or relay the intermittent message to Michael. But she didn't really _say _it. Her words always sounded hollow; empty. He could hardly remember what she used to sound like. Her voice _used_ always get higher when she talked about something she loved, like art classes or visits from her mother. But not anymore. She _used_ to talk slower when she was bored or upset, but now she uses the same tempo with every rare sentence. She _used_ to have different voices for the different people she chatted with. She'd use her "secretary voice" when she conversed with people she usually didn't talk to, like himself or Meredith. She had a special voice for Michael's different antics, always accompanied by an eye roll or a smirk to the camera. Sometimes her "Michael voice" would be reused on her fiancé Roy. Occasionally, Roy would get the "friendly voice." Sure, all her voices were friendly. But **the** friendly voice she saved for people she cared about most. Sometimes she'd talk to Phyllis with it. Pranks with Dwight usually brought it out. But there was one single person who would always get **the** friendly voice. And that one person was gone. He had packed up and left, without so much as a goodbye. He took her voices with him. _Especially_ the friendly voice. The "Jim voice."

Ryan knew that was the reason she had sort of attached herself to him. He wanted to ask if it was because he simply sat at the desk that one person had previously occupied, or if it was the fact that she didn't know him at all, so it was easy for her to mold him into what that one person used to be. Or something entirely different. But he never asked. He used to try to initiate conversations when she started hanging around him, but gave up quickly when he realized it was a wasted effort. She was never going to respond.

Her eyes were still tugging at his face. He wondered if he should glance over at her, or if he should let her live in her fantasy for a little longer. He did nothing.


	3. Chapter 3: Present

**Author's note: **Hey kiddos! Enjoy this new chapter! It's definitely dedicated to StrawberryPajamas! Thanks for helping me out with the Office timeline...thingy. That'll really help in later chapters. Also, sorry (again) about how short this post is. I promise that the next couple will be longer. And will be put up here very soon! Anyway, thanks for reading!

* * *

"Sure he is, Michael. But I just don't think that we should hire someone based on how attractive he might be."

"'Might be?' Have you _seen _Ryan?" She simply stared back. "Alright, _Pam,_" he replied, his sassy voice returning. "But maybe attractiveness is the key to a good business!" She continued to stare, emotionless. "Look, Dunder Mifflin isn't doing so great."

"Better than we are…"

"Hey!" Michael interrupted. "That is neither here nor there. What I'm saying is, Dunder Mifflin is slowly losing business. And maybe it's because they don't care about how hot their employees are. I mean, have you looked at some of the people back at the office?" Pam rolled her eyes, but he continued. "I mean, the only good-looking people working there were Jim, you, and me, obviously. And now, you and I are gone. We just took away three-fourths of the hot people in that office!"

Pam's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out Michael's math. Eventually, she gave up, sighing and tossing her arms in the air ever-so-slightly. "Michael, we're not hiring Ryan. _I can't._" The second sentence was quietly thrown in. She had wanted to come toward this new business adventure with an open mind, and wanted to make all the decisions with the least use of her heart possible. But bringing Ryan into the picture changed things. Definitely changed things.

"Oh Pam. Ryan is everything I'm not and everything I am. He's the whole package. We've got to hire him!"

"No," she whispered back. Her voice continued to shrink as the conversation went on. Michael seemed to sense that she wasn't going to back down. She just prayed that he didn't know why.

"Alright," he gave in. Her eyes thanked him silently, but he didn't notice. "Oh, Vikram! Best salesman I ever met. He worked at that telemarketing place."

"Okay," she replied with a smile, and wrote his name under the "Dream Team" section of her notebook. "We'll find him."

"Good, we better. You know, once, he sold diet pills to a fatty and an anorexic-y in the same day."

Pam tried to look impressed, but failed. "Michael, those are like the two easiest people to sell diet pills to." He turned toward her, but she took her statement back before he could respond. "But that's great. It's okay. We'll get him."

Michael smiled in response and began pacing once more. "By the way, we have a meeting with a potential investor today." Her eyes grew wide and a huge grin broke her face. "Yeah, Barbara Keebis. She invests in local businesses, and I'm putting together a little presentation for her." Pam laughed a little and told Michael how fantastic the news was. "Yeah, it's not so bad," he laughed with her. "Got a few things cookin', so…" He sat down in an armchair directly in front of her, and his robe did not even attempt to hide anything.

"Hey! We need to get you dressed!" Pam announced, before jumping up to turn around. He obliged and was out of the room a few moments later. _Mental note: Call Jim and tell him the baguette has made its triumphant return._


	4. Chapter 4: Flashback

**Author's note: **Okay, I know I said that this would be longer, but it's not, so. Sad for you. But I couldn't find a way to add anything without it sounding forced. And I really did try. :\ Ah well. I'm gonna put the next chapter up in the next couple of days. Hopefully tomorrow. So anyway, enjoy!

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"Good morning, Pam," he recited as he entered the building, as he did every morning. She shot him a small smile and turned her attention back to her computer screen, as she did every morning. Except, it wasn't even a smile, not really. More like a pair of lips slightly turned up at the corners. There was no emotion, no meaning, no _life _behind them. He sighed in response, as he did every morning, and hung his coat on the rack next to hers before trudging toward his desk. The computer hadn't even chimed to life before he felt her eyes on him yet again. Unable to distract himself with work or a coworker, seeing as they were the only two in the office besides Angela and Toby and his computer took so painstakingly long to boot up, he glanced back into her eyes. She continued to stare for a few moments before breaking the gaze and took to refilling her candy tray. He was ready to turn back to his desk, but decided against it. This morning, he did something that went against the normal routine.

She didn't really notice as he approached her desk, but she never did anymore. She just let whoever it was take her jelly beans and leave. But he wasn't going anywhere. He tapped his knuckles on the counter a few times, like that one person used to do, and watched as her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, probably trying to remind herself that it wasn't that one person at her desk. It would never be. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her face toward his. "Yes?" her monotone voice asked. It wasn't really a question, either. Just something she said to try and get him to leave as quickly as possible. But this time, he wasn't leaving so easily. He hated to drag up memories, but it seemed like the only way to bring the old Pam back. Even for a moment.

"Do you want me to move?"

His question seemed to startle her, and she responded with a little more life. "What?" It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Would it be easier for you if I left …that desk? I mean, my old desk is still unfilled in the annex. And there's one next to Stanley and Phyllis. Or I could take Oscar's spot while he's still on his 'gay-cation.'" She looked confused as he continued to rattle off possibilities. "I just… Well, would it be easier for you if I wasn't sitting… there?"

She caught onto his accusation quickly and focused her gaze on the jelly beans in his hand. They were silent for a few minutes, and her eyes never left the candy. He tried to trick her into looking up at him by popping a jelly bean into his mouth, but she didn't fall for it. He eventually turned around, and heard her soft voice.

"It would be worse if I had to stare at his empty desk." Ryan didn't spin around to face her, or even acknowledge what she had said. He simply walked back to his chair and was pleased when he found his computer all ready for his use. A moment passed, and he heard her sigh a few feet away from him. He took a chance and turned his eyes toward her desk. He saw her reach for the bag of Jelly Bellys in a drawer and refill the half-empty candy dish for the second time that morning. Apparently he had been standing with her for a while.

A few hours passed without her eyes on him. He wondered if that was a good thing or not. He wondered if he should ask. Before he could decide, Michael exited his office and announced another worthless meeting in a few minutes. He took a few deep breaths and strolled into the conference room. He found her already sitting in her regular seat against the wall, and took the empty seat next to her. It was always vacant, as if everyone else knew she wanted him and only him to sit next to her. This morning, Kelly sat on his other side. The talkative woman wandered from topic to topic without a break, and Ryan had supplied a few one-word answers at her questions. That seemed like all it took to keep her going. His eyes may have been on Kelly, but his focus was on Pam. It was always on Pam.


	5. Chapter 5: Present

**Author's note:** Hey, this one actually IS longer! Wow! :D

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A door creaked open, and Pam's head automatically jerked up. Michael was exiting the building, a small Indian man on his arm. Her boss raised his hands in celebration, and Pam smiled, exclaiming "We got Vikram!" The telemarketer muttered something incomprehensible before climbing into the backseat of Michael's small car. Pam slid into the passenger seat, and checked _4. Obtain "Dream Team" _off her list, overdoing it a little for Michael's benefit. He smiled at her theatrics.

They rode in silence for a few minutes before Michael pulled into a parking lot and broadcasted that he had to pee. Pam rolled her eyes but stayed silent as she watched her boss run through the doors. She glanced to the top of the building and her breath hitched when she realized where they were. Idle Hour Lanes. She tried to convince herself that the fact Michael had chosen this parking lot of all parking lots was a coincidence, but after he had been inside for more than five minutes, she knew that he had secret, ulterior motives. She heard Vikram stir in the background, and his rough voice cracked through the silence in her head.

"He's taking a long time. Is it possible he's bowling? I mean, you know him better than I do."

"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, it's possible." But not probable. Not probable when you consider the alternative. Nevertheless, she wrapped her hand around the car door handle, and took a deep breath before opening it. "I'll be right back."

Pam wrapped her jacket tighter around her body as each step brought her closer to the bowling alley. She wasn't sure if she was cold or just nervous. "It's possible," she muttered to herself before opening the door. The camera crew trailed behind her, obviously straining to hear her rambling whispers. But she kept quiet. She took a step into the warm bowling alley, taking a deep breath full of smoke and alcohol. Immediately, Michael's boisterous laugh was heard a few feet away. Pam could barely hear an annoyed response following Michael's comment. She took another deep breath before glancing at the camera and heading in their direction.

"Michael! What's going on!?"

"Oh, Pam! Pamaloo! Pam-a-lam-a-ding-dong!" he shouted back, eyes twinkling. "You remember Ryan."

"Hey," she greeted without looking away from her boss's face. She raised her hand slightly as a wave to echo her statement.

"Hey you," the young man replied. She blushed a little, but regained her composure and pulled Michael away from the front desk. "Ugh, Michael! Why'd you bring the cameras?" he complained before they were out of earshot.

"Michael, this is not on the list," she whined, pulling the notebook out of her purse for emphasis.

"Um, yeah it is."

"Michael, no it's…" she trailed off, looking down her list. Written in unfamiliar handwriting was _5. Get Ry Ry! _"When did you add this to the list!? We weren't going to hire Ryan. Remember? We agreed on Vikram. Ryan was nowhere in our plans this morning."

Michael sighed loudly, causing Ryan to noticeably look up at the two of them. Even louder, Michael shouted, "God, Pam! What do you have against Ryan?" Pam's eyes grew wide as she glanced over to where her former coworker stood. He met her eyes for a moment before shifting his gaze to the floor, his face growing redder by the second. She closed her eyes in regret, and turned back toward Michael.

"Nothing, Michael. Ryan's fine. Sorry." It was barely a whisper. Miraculously, Michael heard her and spun around to meet his protégé.

"Ryan, just out of curiosity, how much to you get paid here?"

"Sixty thousand dollars a year," he replied, making sure not to look at either of them in the eye.

"Really?" she found her voice. This was the first time she had addressed him directly in months. She never expected it to be about something so innocent as his salary. She didn't know how she felt about that. "You get paid by the year at the bowling alley?"

His eyes met hers, smoldering in his gaze. "What do you make, secretary?" To anyone else, his question would seem completely harmless. And the secretary comment would probably go unnoticed. But the word was more meaningful to Pam than anything she had heard in a long time. Her mind started to flash back to the first moment Ryan had used the nickname, but she willed herself away from it. Too hard to relive. She snapped back to reality and realized that Ryan was still staring into her eyes. She dropped his gaze quickly.

"Get back to work, shoe bitch!" some guy called from behind. Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Michael, I told you. I'm really busy. If this little reunion is over, could you guys please--"

He was cut off by Michael's "business voice" and one simple question. "How would you like to come work for the Michael Scott Paper Company?" Pam sighed beside him. Before responding, Ryan looked at Pam for the okay. She shrugged before crossing her arms and glancing toward the cameras, an apathetic look on her face. She barely heard his comment before she turned to leave.

"What size shoes are you guys?" he asked, jumping over the desk to look at their feet.

"Uh, nine?" Michael replied. It almost sounded like a question.

"What are those, a men's ten?" Ryan asked, looking at her feet. He jumped down from the counter and turned to the shoe rack, grabbing random pairs. She hardly had time to mutter a no before he turned back to wink at her. "Just kidding. I remember your shoe size." Suddenly, Ryan was sprinting out of the building, and she turned to Michael with questions swimming in her eyes. However, Michael was headed for the door as well. She stood in silence for a few minutes, before racing after them.

"He's stealing the shoes, he's stealing the shoes!" Michael shouted, squealing like a child on Christmas morning.

"Sorry," she called out to no one in particular. When she finally exited the building, Ryan was asking (more like _shouting_) Michael where his car was. Michael pointed to the only car in the parking lot, and all three scampered toward it. Slamming the doors shut, Michael peeled out of the parking lot like their lives depended on it. Pam was trying to catch her breath as she looked at the people surrounding her. Michael was still giggling like a six-year-old, and Vikram simply stared out the window like he didn't notice anything strange going on. She was too nervous to look back for Ryan's reaction.

He could be looking one of two ways, and both would be strange for her to see. It would be weird to look back and see him sitting so calmly in a car with her, after months of hardly any contact. If he would just be so unfazed by her presence and act like nothing at all had happened between them. That would be too much. It would also be weird, however, if he sat there, jittery and nervous like she was. Ryan had never been one to show his emotions on his sleeve, and if he was displaying his discomfort for all the world to see right now, it might be too much as well. Pam didn't know which look would make her more upset, so she simply didn't turn around. She closed her eyes and let the soft sounds of Michael's radio wash away her thoughts. Ryan muttered something about his recent trip to Thailand, but she ignored it the best she could. Soon his voice was just a soft murmur playing in the back of her mind. She was used to that. His voice was always running through her mind.


	6. Chapter 6: Flashback

**Author's note:** Happy Holidays, everybody! Mk, here's the thing. My family is (hopefully, if it's not too stormy) going out of town on the 26th or 27th for like a week and a half. So I might not be able to post for a while. If we stay with my aunt, then I should be able to get a couple chapters up. But if we stay with my grandma, that'll be impossible. She only has dial-up, and it's just not worth it. Hahah. Anyway, I'll try to get at least one more post in before we go, but if I don't, then have an excellent week! I'm so happy it's Christmas, it's not even funny :D

* * *

Ryan quickly pulled into a parking space and ran inside the building. He had been fashionably late plenty of times before, but today was ridiculous. His alarm hadn't gone off, his roommate had used all the hot water, his coffee pot wouldn't start, he couldn't find any clean socks, and he hit every freaking red light on the way to the office. Apparently, sometimes God likes to pile it on hard. He wondered what he would do when he walked into Dunder Mifflin. What Dwight would say, what his boss would yell, what she would think. He wondered if she was questioning where he was at that moment. If maybe today, when she started at him, she'd actually be staring at _him, _instead of at the past. If her eyes would be swimming with unanswered questions like his did every day. He wondered if she'd ask them.

He dashed to the office floor and muttered a "Good morning, Pam," before collapsing into his chair. He realized that this was the first morning, since the beginning, that he hadn't stood around her desk, waiting for her pathetic response. He wondered if she noticed.

"Well, well, well," a voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to find his desk mate Dwight staring back at him. "Look what the cat dragged in. Late, I might add." He had a whole bunch of witty responses, but decided not to use any of them. It would be too much like that one person.

"Whatever, Dwight. Sorry." The strange beet farmer continued to stare at him accusingly, but Ryan ignored it, like so many other things, and waited for his computer to start.

No one else had made a big deal about his tardiness. He was grateful for that. He spent the morning going through Dwight's rejected clients (because obviously, Dwight couldn't sell to businesses that didn't have an attack plan ready for emergencies) trying to make his very first sale. No luck. Soon enough, it was time for lunch. He entered the break room and found her sitting at "their" table in the back, licking the yogurt off of her lid. She had a little drop of yogurt sitting just above her lip. He slid into the seat next to her and prepared for another long, silent meal. About halfway through his turkey sandwich, he decided to do something different, like yesterday. Something that upset the normal routine.

"Hey," he simply said, turning toward her. She glanced back and gave her little fake smile before refocusing her attention on the spoon. Not so fast, Pam. "Hey," he persisted. She looked up at him again, confusion plainly on her face. She raised her hands slightly, as if to ask "What are you doing?" That was the best response he got from her before she turned back to her lunch. He wondered if he should stop, but decided that he had gone this far already.

"Hey," he said again, a little louder this time. She didn't even look in his direction. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," he laughed, poking her in the ribs with each greeting. She still hadn't turned toward him, but he could faintly see a tiny smile playing on her lips. It looked genuine, looked _real_. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey," he said again, using his elbow to nudge her away from the table.

She turned to look into his eyes then, an authentic Pam smile taking up her entire face. "Hi."

"Hey," he said once more. It had been an excruciating few days, watching her sulk around and listen to her vacant "conversations." But that single "hi" had made it all worth it. She had actually used one of her old voices. It was just the "secretary voice," but it was better than nothing. He wondered if she'd ever use the friendly voice again. The "Jim voice."

He glanced back at her face, and saw the smile still there. It was decreasing in size by the second, but remained on her lips for a long while. He wondered if he should ask another question, try to keep her good mood going, but he couldn't think of anything to say. "Oh, you went back to Mixed Berry today." He thought it was a harmless statement. Certainly not anything he really wanted to comment about, but thought that maybe it was innocent enough that she'd respond. However, she simply sighed as the smile was wiped from her lips and any emotion left her eyes. He wondered if that one person used to comment on her yogurt flavors.

He rubbed her shoulder before standing. He lingered for a moment, trying to figure out if she wanted him to stay, but she gave no indication that his leaving would be a bad idea. He threw his brown paper lunch bag away before leaving the break room and settling into his desk.

Hours went by and Pam still hadn't returned. He wondered if he should go find her, make sure she was okay. But perhaps Kelly had ran into her already and was talking about Brad and Angelina's new adopted son. He wondered if he'd take the chance of running into one of Kelly's never ending conversations just to find Pam. Suddenly, Michael had called him into his office for another opinion on leather pants. He groaned and shut the door behind him before falling into a chair near the window. It was going to be a long afternoon.

"Uh, Michael. It's five o'clock," Ryan interrupted. He had been in and out of Michael's office for the last few hours of his day, trying to lead him away from buying neon skinny jeans. Eventually, Ryan decided that he didn't really care what his boss spent money on, and told him to go ahead with the purchase. But then he was forced to stay and help Michael decide between lime green and electric blue.

"Oh, well look at that. Alright then, you're free to go! Maybe I'll call you tonight about those colors…" Ryan had barely heard that last sentence before he was out of the building. On the drive home, he wondered if Kelly would text about going out for drinks, or if Michael would actually follow through on that promised phone call. He decided to embrace what freedom he had at the moment before it was interrupted.

It was almost seven o'clock, and Ryan had decided to prepare dinner for himself and settle into a long night of watching television. No one had called him for a late drink or middle-of-the-work-week party all night. He was getting slightly worried that he was somehow becoming less popular. I mean, not even Michael had called for goodness sakes. After about half an hour, his leg was bouncing uncontrollably as he impatiently waited for some sign of life to come out of his briefcase. But nothing had. Eventually, he got up to make sure he hadn't left the thing on silent, and quickly realized why he wasn't getting calls. His phone was missing.

After searching every corner of his house, Ryan realized that his cell phone had been carelessly left at work. He glanced at the clock before grabbing his keys. Seven thirty. He wondered if the office would even be open at this time.


	7. Chapter 7: Present

**Author's note: **Hey guys! Ummmm I just realized that I uploaded the wrong chapter. So I guess if you read the other one before I took it off, then you get a little preview bonus or something! Yay..! So I hope you all had an excellent Christmas! Mine was pretty great (: I got the Glee soundtracks (!) and The Office Season 5 (!!!!!). So if I run low on Pam/Ryan inspiration, I can watch Michael Scott Paper Company as many times as I want! My other gifts weren't as epic, obviously. What could be better than Glee and The Office!? (: Anyway, enjoy this (correct) chapter!

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"Shotgun!" he called loudly from behind. He must have been walking two inches behind her for his voice to ring so clearly, but she didn't have the guts to turn around and check.

"Ryan…" she muttered in protest. It was the first time she had addressed him by name in a long time. She hated the way it made her feel. She hated the _fact _it made her feel.

He skipped a few steps and was walking beside her. No, not walking. More like… gliding. It was a dumb word to use, she knew, but she couldn't think of a different one to describe it. It's like he is too good to simply walk, so he just floats along. She hated that she still noticed stupid things about him. "Right. You can keep the front seat. I just said that because… I don't know why I said that. Um, never mind." She didn't look, but felt the heat radiating off of his obviously red and embarrassed cheeks. She hated that she could still make him tongue-tied.

"No, no!" Michael shouted from behind them. "All must obey the rules of 'shotgun'!" Pam sighed, and Ryan looked at her profile. She hated that he heard her. She hated how closely he walked to her. She hated that their fingers brushed, and hated that she knew it wasn't an accident. She crossed her arms and picked up the pace toward Michael's car.

"Well, if we're playing by the rules, then I can't take the seat," she heard Ryan yell toward her--_their _boss. "Vikram wasn't in view of the car." She took a chance and looked behind her, seeing that the tiny man Ryan referred to was just barely exiting the building. Vikram questioned the fact that his name was called, and Pam heard him shout "Shotgun!" before she got into the car. _Great._

Why had she protested when Ryan wanted the front seat? At least then, they still wouldn't be _too _close to one another. But now that the telemarketer had joined in the boys' juvenile game, she was forced to squeeze in the back with the man currently occupying her thoughts. She tried to disregard his glances and quiet attempts at conversation as long as she could without it being obvious that she was avoiding him. Although, she couldn't figure out why she cared if he knew she was ignoring him. She hated that.

"Want some bowling shoes?" he asked with a crooked smile. "I made sure to grab your size."

She sighed and turned toward the window. "Nope." She didn't know if it was because everyone was silent, or because of Vikram's realization that not even Michael's grandmother would invest in their little company, but at that moment, a very somber air filled the car. Vikram groaned and asked to be dropped back off at the telemarketing building. The second he exited the car, Pam hopped into the passenger seat. She left the car door open for Vikram to make his parting speech, but Michael leaned over and slammed it shut.

The drive back to Michael's condo was more silent than before. Michael had turned off the radio, and they only heard the breeze against their windows on the road. Ryan's humming snuck its way into her ears. She couldn't tell if he honestly didn't care that their business would probably fail before the day was over, or if he was trying to make her (and Michael, she reasoned. But deep down, she knew it was all for her) feel better. She hated both options. A short while later, the car pulled into the driveway of Michael's condo. She saw her car parked in front of the place, and considered jumping in it before anyone noticed she was gone. Both Michael and Ryan exited the car and discussed something about TNT before Ryan dashed inside. Michael lingered by the Sebring for a minute, waiting for her to get out. But she wouldn't.

"I can't do this," she muttered, not shifting her glance. Michael sighed a few feet away before responding.

"Yeah, I know, two not-so-great things in a row. Ehhhhh well. Stuff happens, right? At least we got Ryan. The Ry-guy. We should call him 'Rye Bread.' We don't have to call him that. Unless you like it. We could call him that." She pushed off his attempt at humor and tried to decipher the "two not-so-great things." Surely he didn't know what _she_ was talking about. Of course not. Nobody knew. But if he didn't know, what could he have meant by that sentence? Oh, the horrible investment meeting. And… Vikram quitting? He thought she was talking about the job. She decided to go along with it instead of correcting him. Besides, she _was_ upset about the job. She just wouldn't let him know the main reason why.

"I can't do this, Michael. I had a real job. I sat ten feet away from my fiancé." She hated the depressed tone that radiated from the word "fiancé." She pushed that thought aside. "I was _happy _at Dunder Mifflin. I don't want to be here! I don't want to work with Ryan!"

"What!? Why?" Michael interrupted. She barreled through.

"I can't do this! I have no idea why I thought I should. I mean, I worked with Jim! _Jim,_ Michael! And then I gave that up to come here with you… and with _Ryan! _I just keep getting bored. And I let things build up and build up and then I - I, I do something too big, like this. Who does this?" Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. She wasn't sure if they were because of her employment status or the… other reason. The secret reason. Michael was saying something about God, but she interrupted. "Plus, we don't have any money. We don't have an office. We don't have anything!"

Michael was slowly getting just as upset as she was. "Well we should make a list. Lists are good. Lists are good. Lists are good. First on the list, let's get you out of the car. Alright." She glanced at him before throwing her notebook out the window. "Okay…" he sighed.

"How come out of everyone in the office, I'm the only one that went with you? I mean, Dwight didn't even come! Dwight! Or Jim! I should have known that something was wrong when _Jim _didn't follow me out the door. Am I that stupid?"

He stepped closer to the car and looked serious all of a sudden. "I want you to listen to me. Because I want to tell you the situation that we are both in right now, kay? You quit your job. I quit my job. We both quit. Those are the facts. That's what happened. Now, what are our choices right now? Because you know, kiddo, you quit." She simply nodded in response. "So what are our options? Well, we can start this paper company. We can try. Or... that's it. That's our only option. Because we quit. Pam, I do my best work when people don't believe in me. I remember in high school, my math teacher told me I was gonna flunk out. And know what I did? The very next day I went out and I scored more goals than anyone else in the history of the hockey team." She shot a glance toward the cameras. A "Jim" glance. Michael didn't notice. "See what I mean? I thrive on this. I thrive on it. So I'm gonna go inside. I'm going to make some calls, I'm gonna get us an office space, and I'm going to show you why you joined this company. Okay?"

Pam smiled for the first time since their bowling alley detour. Michael patted the car frame before dashing through his front door. She took a few moments to calm down before exiting his little car and picked up her list. She glanced over it before finding up her pen and scratching out number three.

It wouldn't be necessary any more.


	8. Chapter 8: Flashback

**Author's note: **I don't think I've ever thanked you guys for your awesome reviews. You guys are the best readers in the world. Thanks so much (:  
Also, I'm pretty sure I've never put a disclaimer in here. FYI, I don't own anything. If I did... I don't know what would happen. But I don't, so. That's the end of that.

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Surprisingly, the parking gate was still open when Ryan pulled up to the building. A few cars filled spaces in the otherwise empty parking lot, and he figured they belonged to the security guards or cleaning crew. However, one car stuck out to Ryan. Pam's car. He pulled up next to it in disbelief. That couldn't possibly be Pam's car, she must have gone home hours ago. Ryan got out of his car and decided to peer through the windows of hers. A couple of sketch pads and romance novels were strewn across the backseat. A navy blue cardigan lay rumpled on the floor. Everything else seemed to be in perfect order. It was definitely Pam's car. He could tell by the paperclip necklace hanging off her rearview mirror. A shiny gold yogurt lid was attached at the bottom.

Thoughts of where Pam was took over Ryan's mind as he entered the familiar building. He was slightly shocked to find it still unlocked, but dashed for the stairs anyway. As soon as he walked into the Dunder Mifflin office, he realized something was wrong. All the lights were turned off, but her coat still hung on the rack beside her desk. He noticed her purse under the chair. Ryan convinced himself not to think much of it, because after all, this was Scranton, and nothing bad happened in Scranton. She probably went home with Angela, or decided to finally accept one of Roy's date invitations. Ryan wandered toward his desk, opening every drawer before concluding that his phone wasn't there either. He peeked through the windows of Michael's office, but couldn't see it anywhere. _Maybe it's in the break room._

Ryan found his way to the familiar lunch spot, and heard muffled sniffling when he opened the door. Confused, and a little worried, Ryan's hand found the light switch and he flipped it on.

She was still sitting there, at "their" table, like she hadn't moved since his statement about her yogurt flavor. When the lights came on, she ripped her head from her hands in a panic, and his heart broke when he saw her face.

Her eyes were red, and the mascara she had put on earlier was off of her eyelashes and dripping down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, like she had tried pulling it out with her hands. Her sleeves were rumpled and wet from the tears. In a flash, she stood up and tried to push past him; tried to run away. "Pam," he called out, grabbing her hand. Not even a second later, she was wrapped in his arms and clutching his shoulders for dear life. The tears began again, louder and more forceful than he had ever heard before. His shirt would be soaking before the night was over, but he didn't care. He hardly even noticed. All he could think about was how to comfort Pam, but his brain was failing. He held her close to him, running a hand through her hair and occasionally whispering "It's okay, Pam. Everything will be okay."

After a while, her sobs died down until he could barely hear them. He knew she was still crying, because her shoulders were quivering and every once in a while she took deep, shaky breaths. She didn't release her death grip around his waist, and he didn't mind. He just held her closer, rubbing circles on her back. A short moment later, her shoulders didn't quake as much, and her breathing became more even. He fully expected her to pull away from his grasp and walk away like nothing had happened, but today seemed to be all about disrupting their regular routine.

Ryan's ears must be deceiving him, because he could swear he just heard her laughing. He kept rubbing her back, and whispered "It's okay," but she just laughed louder. Confused, he pulled back to look into her eyes. A real Pam smile was tugging at her lips. "What's so funny?" he asked, and couldn't help giggling with her.

"Nothing," she replied, trying to be serious. He just laughed in response. "Really! Nothing is funny. I shouldn't be laughing right now. This is… bad."

She turned her face away from his and focused on the tile beneath them. "Hey," he whispered, tilting her chin toward his to look into her eyes. "If it makes you show even a shred of who you used to be, it can't be that bad." Her eyes searched his face for a sign that he didn't believe what he said, but found none. She threw her arms around his neck more tightly than she had before. He simply tightened his grip around her and kissed her forehead. He wasn't sure, but thought he could feel her smiling beside him.

"Oh," she sighed, reaching into her pocket. "I'm pretty sure this is yours. It's been ringing all night." He was too shocked that she was actually talking to him to realize she was holding something out for him to take. He looked into her hand and found his cell phone. A smile tugged on his mouth as his hand brushed hers while he grabbed it.

"Great, thanks. That's what I came here for." He was a little surprised to see her face fall.

"Well, good," she replied in her monotone voice. He was more upset than he should have been to hear _that _voice again. "You found it. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She left the break room and wandered to her desk before he processed what had happened. She was grabbing her coat off the rack when he appeared in the doorway, calling out to her.

"Wanna talk about it?" They both stood still for a moment before he closed the gap between them. He walked up behind her, but she continued to stare at the front door. His fingers reached out and brushed her arm, and she slowly turned around. Her eyes were slowly filling with tears once more, and he couldn't help but wipe them away. She smiled a little at his action as more tears dripped silently down her cheeks. He cursed himself for saying something that made her do this again. With the little strength she had, Pam pulled him toward the couch near her front desk and they collapsed in comfort.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, and then she took a deep breath. His eyes focused even more intensely on her face as he waited for her to speak.

"He left because of me."

It could barely be considered a whisper, but he heard her anyway. She continued to stare at her hands waiting for his response, but he couldn't come up with the right one. Should he tell her that that one person's decision to leave had nothing to do with her, even though he knew it did? Should he tell her not to ruin her life over that one person? Should he just keep murmuring "everything's going to be okay?"

He simply wrapped his arms around her for the second time that night.


	9. Chapter 9: Present

**Author's note: **It's a lazy Sunday around my house, so I'm updating early! Wow, only two days since my last update. Must be some kind of record (: Aaaaanyway, this is just some nice sort of fluff to hold you over. I actually just finished the next "present" chapter, and it's three whole Word document pages of intense, passion-fueled fighting :D Well, the whole thing isn't fighting. But one whole page out of the three-page chapter is! Hey, if I get a flashback post written, then maybe I'll upload that AND the next present post TODAY! Hahah, I'm so bored. But don't count on it, cause yeah. I really doubt I'll ever post three times in one day, but it's nice to dream, right? (:

Also, thanks again for the amazing reviews! I love going to fanfiction and seeing my review number go up!

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Pam sighed as she plopped onto the tiny futon in her boss's living room. Michael was a mere ten feet away, quarrelling with someone on the phone. She focused her ears and struggled to hear who seemed to be winning the "argument," but Michael purposely kept his voice down. She quickly gave up trying to hear the conversation and shifted her gaze to the …_coworker _sitting beside her. Ryan was sprawled out on an armchair, his feet resting on the coffee table in front of them. She rolled her eyes and prepared to remind him to keep his shoes off of the furniture, but noticed that socks were the only things on his feet. A fast sweep of the room told her that his tennis shoes were casually strewn by the front door. Pam smiled to herself; maybe he had learned some manners from her after all. However, at that moment he shifted his footing slightly and sent a pile of magazines tumbling to the floor. She waited to see if he was going to be polite and clean up his mess, but he showed no indication of doing such. She groaned inwardly and bent down to pick up the scattered magazines.

Suddenly, a second pair of hands was grasping for articles with her. She didn't even need to look up to know who was helping. She'd know those hands anywhere. They worked in silence for a few moments until a soft whistle came from her left. She glanced over and saw Ryan staring open-mouthed at the latest edition of _Maxim. _A large-breasted bimbo pursed her lips on the cover. Pam rolled her eyes and pulled the "magazine" out of his hands, shoving it toward the bottom of their pile. A low chuckle erupted from her coworker, but she simply shook her head and got back to work.

"I think this is the last one," he said, setting an _Us Weekly _on the coffee table in front of them.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Thanks."

He attempted to catch her eye, but she continued to stare at the floor. "Hey, no need to thank me. You probably shouldn't have done anything. I was the one to knock them over."

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm just used to cleaning up your messes."

He looked confused for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out whether her comment was sarcastic or serious. She couldn't tell either. He gave up with a sigh. "Sorry," he whispered.

She rolled her eyes. "Ryan, it was just a couple of magazines. Not a big deal."

"I wasn't talking about that," he muttered a little more bravely. She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. She was not going to have **that** conversation. They sat together in silence once more and strained to hear the phone discussion their boss was still having. "So," he began. She closed her eyes and attempted to make herself believe he wasn't trying to strike up another conversation, but he continued to talk anyway. "You sure you don't need another pair of shoes? Cause I _did _take the time to find your size. I think you should be appreciative."

She smiled slightly at his obvious attempt at humor. "Who wears bowling shoes on a regular basis?" He simply nodded toward the man in front of them. "Oh Michael," she sighed. Their boss had apparently decided that a pair of used, beat-up bowling shoes went perfectly with his Target-brand suit. Ryan let another soft laugh escape his throat as she shook her head sarcastically.

"No, not there. That would be humiliating," Michael groaned. The pair whipped their heads around to look into his panicked eyes. He looked utterly defeated. Pam glanced toward Ryan, who simply shrugged in response. Suddenly, Michael snapped his cell phone shut and turned to them with false enthusiasm. "Alright! Who wants to go check out our new office?"

Pam smiled back as warmly as she could. Michael's previous comment hadn't reassured her that their "office" wouldn't be a box on the side of the highway. "You really found us an office?" she attempted to cheer. It hadn't sounded very convincing to her, but Michael seemed to buy it.

"I guess I did! Let's go!" he shouted, gesturing wildly toward the front door. She hopped up and began to follow, while Ryan sighed and reached for his tennis shoes. She wished that he could at least _pretend _to be interested, for Michael's sake. She knew he could do it. After all, he had used his "acting skills" on her plenty of times in the past. He "acted" like he cared for her. He "acted" like she was the most important thing in his life. **He "acted" like she mattered. **The trio arrived at Michael's small car, and she was surprised when he didn't put up a fuss about sitting in the front seat. Soon enough, they turned onto the familiar street that would lead them toward the old office building. Michael wanted to park inside the gates, but Pam convinced him to stay on the side of the road until they for sure had an office of their own.

She was surprised to see the entire office in the parking lot playing soccer. It was nice, almost relaxing, to watch Andy attempt to head-butt the black and white ball while Dwight shouted orders to the entire clan. Angela and Kelly were standing off to the side, admiring Charles from afar, and Kevin seemed to be panting for breath. Jim's eyes quickly met hers and she simply shrugged as Michael yanked her toward the doors. She didn't like the way her fiancé's gaze shifted to the man walking behind her, and she didn't like hearing Ryan's growl in response. It was a quiet noise, almost silent, but she still managed to hear it. Her ears still seemed to be attuned to his voice.

Billy, the building manager, directed them down a small, dimly-lit corridor. Pam was surprised when he stopped in front of a door that looked like it led to a small closet. Ryan bravely burst through the door, Michael quickly following behind. She decided to hang back a moment to catch her breath. When she had gathered enough courage, she strutted through the open doorway.

The room was a pretty average size, if you're talking about a college dorm or a one-person bedroom in a cheap apartment. For an office, however, it was tiny. Layers of boxes lined the walls and the floor, and assorted trash formed a shell over the ground. An old, rusty shower stood against a wall, pipes jutting out all over the ceiling. A broken chair and what looked like the remains of an outdated computer sat in the corner. Pam took a moment to look around, before settling on her boss's expectant face. Ryan continued to wander around the tiny room as Michael sighed beside her. "I could work here. I could see this." Michael muttered something in response, but she was too busy watching Ryan's every move.

"I'm good. You good?" Michael asked, forcing her to snap out of the daydream.

She smiled before responding, hoping to calm his fears. "I'm good." She actually was beginning to feel confident in their small business, but Ryan dashed that hope with one sentence.

"This place is a hole."

"Ryan…" she sighed. Way to go, temp.


	10. Chapter 10: Flashback

**Author's note: **Hey kiddos! Sorry I haven't been on here for awhile. Anyway, here's another ball of fluff for ya. Aw, the almost beginning of their relationship (: Be on the lookout for the next chapter. It'll be pretty intense! I hope. Hahah. And thanks for the super reviews! Love you guys.

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"Sorry," she whispered, after a long silence had consumed the room. He shook his head, a small grin playing with his mouth. She had nothing to be sorry about. A few minutes later, she took a deep breath and continued. "It's just… I called off my wedding for him, but he wasn't around to see it. I shouldn't… He told me he loved me, Ryan. He _loved _me. And I didn't say it back. Not at the time, anyway. If he would have stayed a little longer, I could have… I just… don't know what to do. I'm such a wreck." Ryan simply pulled her into his arms again. He had been doing that a lot tonight.

"Well," he whispered, but knew she heard him. "What do you want to do?"

She snuggled into him closer. He didn't know that was possible, with how tightly he was holding her, but she managed to do it. "I told you. I don't know what to do."

His hand absently ran through her hair. "I know that. But what do you _want _to do?"

"I," she sighed into his chest. "…I just want to move on. To forget he ever existed. Is that pathetic?"

"No you don't," he ignored her question. She pulled away to look into his eyes, obviously put off by his statement. He lowered his voice until it could barely sift through the office air. "You know that forgetting him would be the biggest mistake of your life." She squeezed her eyes shut, probably to stop another onslaught of tears from springing forth.

"I just don't want to feel this way anymore," she muttered so quietly that Ryan had done a double take to make sure the words were actually coming from her. Luckily, her next words weren't so silent. "What is WRONG with me!? I'm not that girl, Ryan! I've NEVER been that girl! But I just… I can't believe I pushed him away. It's my fault he left."

"Stop saying that," Ryan countered with an eye roll. "You know it's not true." She merely scoffed in response. He hated using that word to describe something she did. It sounded so… masculine, and she was obviously very, _very _much a woman, but that's what she did. There was no other word to describe it. He looked into her eyes to find her smiling back at him.

Surprise?

Tear tracks were still apparent on her cheeks, but if he had to look at a few wet marks on her face every time he wanted to see her smile, he'd take it in a heartbeat. "Ryan Howard, did you just roll your eyes at me?" She held up a slender index finger and began to shake it from side to side, smirking at him in the process. "That's very rude, you know. This is a serious topic of conversation."

"Yes, I know," he smirked right back. "You've been complaining about it for the last three hours." Her mouth dropped open as her hand reached out and shoved him away.

"Well, if you didn't want to listen to me ramble on for _three hours_, then maybe you shouldn't have asked." She sarcastically held up her fingers to put air quotes around the words "three hours." He couldn't help but grin wildly at her response. Perhaps there was a little more of the "old Pam" than he thought.

"I wasn't really asking, actually. It was kind of just a formality, you know. I couldn't care less about your little problems."

"Right," she giggled with him. After their laughter had died down, she looked at him with a small smile. "Thanks for listening, though. Even if you didn't _really _ask."

The corner of his mouth turned up as his gaze shifted to her hand tangled up in his. He gave her gentle fingers a squeeze before responding. She sighed and leaned into him. "I lied before. I really did ask."


	11. Chapter 11: Present

**Author's note: **Ooooh, Pam and Ryan's big blowout! Hahah. It gets pretty intense toward the end. You'll learn for sure what happened between them later on, don't worry. Right now I'm just giving you a little taste (: Also, this is my longest chapter yet! You know. Word-count-wise. So, yay! hahah. I love you guys.

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"Well, have fun today."

"Yeah," he scoffed in return. "As if that's even possible without you there." Pam smiled as her fiancé pulled into a parking space in front of their office building. Jim grabbed her hand and leaned over for a quick peck on the cheek before exiting the car. She followed his lead, and leaned into his shoulder as they strolled toward the office doors. Immediately, she noticed a certain ex-boyfriend-slash-coworker if hers quickly walking a few steps ahead of them. "LOVE the hair," Jim called out, and the newly-blonde Ryan Howard picked up his pace.

Pam sighed inwardly at Jim's remark. He looked down at her, and she smiled in return, because she knew that would be what he wanted to see. She really just wished that Jim would stop his petty comments. She knew that he and Ryan were "sworn enemies," but that fight had ended a long time ago. She wished they would both grow up and get over themselves. "So sorry you have to work with _that_ guy again…" he joked beside her.

She chose to ignore his statement and turned toward her boss, climbing awkwardly out of his car. "Hey Michael." He muttered something in return, but she didn't care enough to pretend to listen. She simply shrugged Jim's arm off of her shoulders as they entered the building and grinned in his direction before heading down the pathetic hallway toward the Michael Scott Paper Company. She was a little surprised to see Ryan standing outside their office. His back was toward her, and he seemed to be studying the door in front of them. It was… just a door. She could barely see the "Michael Scott Paper Company" sign over his ruffled hair. Certainly nothing he needed to stand outside and stare at. She took a deep breath and closed the gap between them. "Hey."

He turned around and his eyebrows shot up in what she assumed was surprise. "Hey, Pam." She was about to question why he hadn't gone inside, but he interrupted. "Know what this is about?" he questioned, moving aside so she could see a wide red ribbon draped across the wooden door.

"Michael," she simply responded. He nodded and rolled his eyes ever-so-slightly. She sighed and shifted her large purse from one shoulder to the other before leaning against the wall. Soon enough, the purse fell down her arm once more. She groaned and reached over to pull the straps back onto her shoulder. Her eyes accidentally collided with his, and she tried not to grin at his amused expression. "What?"

"What do you have in there? I mean, you never were a 'carry-everything-but-the-kitchen-sink' kind of girl."

"Don't tell me what kind of girl I am," she muttered. His pleased appearance fell a little, and she sighed at her statement. "Um," she said, a little more loudly. "Just some things to make this new office more homey. Picture frames, potted plants, that sort of thing."

"Oh," he whispered, tearing his eyes away from hers.

"Yeah. I guess I'm _that _kind of girl," she responded quietly. His head snapped back to look at hers, and she giggled slightly. A grin broke out onto his face, but he didn't have time to reply as Michael came springing down the hallway, cameras in tow.

"I would like you all to come with me on a journey," he announced toward the camera. Pam glanced at Ryan and found the same puzzled expression gracing his features. Suddenly, Michael pulled a giant pair of hedge clippers from his briefcase. She jumped back slightly, but was hardly surprised. Nothing much Michael did shocked her anymore. He attempted to cut the ribbon, but it wouldn't break apart. She suppressed a giggle as he grunted before tearing down the ribbon with his hands. "Welcome," he announced, gesturing wildly. Pam wished he would put the giant scissors down before waving his arms around like a lunatic. "To the Michael Scott Paper Company!" Michael quickly bounded into the closet… er, into their _office, _eager to show off his new workspace. Ryan slowly followed, pulling out his Blackberry on the way in. Pam shot an apathetic look to the camera and sighed before heading in.

She had to admit, it could have been worse. Michael was beaming proudly at his accomplishment, staring at her and Ryan for their reactions. Ryan glanced up from his cell phone for a moment to take a look around. "Oh cool," he exclaimed, signaling toward a small card table. "Are we gonna play poker?"

"No no!" Michael smiled. "That's your desk. Well, both of your desks." Ryan rolled his eyes before pressing more buttons on his phone.

Pam glanced around the rest of the tiny room. Boxes still lined the walls, but Michael had pushed them out of the way. A rickety computer table sat in the corner, an old monitor and various toys settling on it. _Michael's desk,_ she reasoned. On top of the small poker table sat a sleek laptop and a phone. She began planning where she'd put the desk lamp and small flower she brought. Suddenly, she noticed something sitting in the corner next to Michael's desk. "Wait, is that the old copier from Dunder Mifflin?"

"Um, yes," her boss sighed, dejected.

She decided to take sympathy on the older man. "Good." He looked up in hope. "I, uh. I always loved that copier. Remember? I didn't even want to get a new one!"

Michael smiled. "I remember." Pam grinned in return. "See," he exclaimed, turning toward Ryan. "This place isn't such a 'hole,' is it?"

Ryan glanced up and looked around one more time. "Nah, it still is." He didn't notice Pam's frantic warning signals. Why couldn't he just lie to make their boss feel better? She'd been doing that all week. "But now it's a hole pretending to be something else."

"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"You know what, secretary?" he challenged, turning to glare at her. "Maybe you should just…"

"What, Ryan? 'Maybe I should just' what?" He continued to stare deeply into her eyes before shaking his head and turning his attention to his cell phone. "Oh, there you go. Running away, just like before."

"Hey!" he shouted, whipping around to look at her once more. "I'm NOT running away. Why don't you stop making me out to be the bad guy?"

She laughed sarcastically before throwing her hands into the air. "Who _is _the 'bad guy' here, then? Jim?"

"I wasn't talking about then. I'm talking about now!"

"Well, I'm talking about then!" she yelled back. Now, they were both glaring and shouting at each other like two arch enemies from a bad superhero movie. She had always known this argument would happen eventually, but she didn't ever think it would be in a closet with an audience. Michael just stood in the corner in disbelief. Something told her she should stop screaming in front of her boss, and the documentary crew, but she ignored the warning and continued their fight.

"Fine! You wanna talk about that? Let's talk about it! I _certainly _wasn't the bad guy throughout that whole fiasco! You ended it way before I wanted to!"

Something inside Pam snapped, and she lowered her arms and glanced toward her shoes. "Fiasco?" she muttered. Did he really just refer to their relationship as a disaster? She definitely didn't feel that way. In fact, that time in her life was probably the happiest. Until it ended. She glanced up at the man that constantly entered her thoughts. His head was in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking as if he was gasping for breath. Suddenly, a hand ran through his hair and he stared back into her eyes. His face was a deep shade of red, and his entire face looked angry, except for his baby blues. Those eyes were swimming with a mixture of pain and regret; a look she had seen once before. Staring into his face like that had sent memories of that night flying into her mind. She quickly pushed them away before swallowing and turning toward Michael, cowering in the corner.

"I told you I couldn't work here. With Ryan." At that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. She faintly heard Ryan call her name, but didn't let it phase her as she ran out of the building.


	12. Chapter 12: Flashback

**Author's note: **These flashback posts are always so freaking fluffy. hahah.

* * *

"Morning, Pam," Ryan greeted as he strolled into their chilly office building. She seemed to be studying a couple of faxes, an old pen cap in her mouth being chewed to death. He couldn't help but notice the way her hair cascaded perfectly around her shoulders, or how her hand was constantly reaching to push her bangs away as they fell onto her beautiful eyes.

She looked up, the pen cap dropping from her mouth as it broke into a huge smile. "Oh. Hey, Ryan." He returned her sentiment with a grin of his own before collapsing into his desk chair. Since Pam's big confession a few nights ago, things had gotten a little more… normal around the office. Well, as normal as things could possibly be at this place. Pam was especially more friendly with him. Sure, she had opened up to a few more of their coworkers, but usually stayed reserved throughout the workday. Except when she was around him. It was like he had become a security blanket for her or something. And that thought didn't upset him in the slightest.

Ryan's favorite part of the day was the half hour he got for lunch. Of course, that little break from work, and the hectic office, had always been the favorite part of his day, but lately, his favoritism had grown immensely. He and Pam used to sit at the back table in silence, slowly chewing each bite as to elongate their time away from Michael. But now, they spend their time laughing and chatting. They barely have time to take a bite before the clock chimed and they had to return to their respective mundane jobs. Before, no one would dare to take the empty seat across from them. But now, for a mere thirty minutes, Pam was the host of a big, fancy Hollywood bash. She'd initiate conversations with coworkers two tables away. People would fight for the chance to sit at "their table." For a mere thirty minutes, she was more of the "old Pam" than even the real old Pam was. He walked into the break room that day, somewhat to see her entertaining an audience, a familiar twinkle dancing in her eye. He was immediately a tiny bit upset at the fact she was being so alive without him, but quickly pushed that thought aside. There was no reason for him to be jealous, that just means that she's pulling even more out of her "post-Jim phase." It's not like she ever needed him before that guy left. Suddenly, she looked up and noticed his entrance. Her eyes shone impossibly brighter, and the tiny grin that settled on her mouth broke into a huge, dancing smile. At that moment, he felt very thankful that he never had to make a reservation for "their table." She always granted him a seat.

"So I just walked out. I mean, what would you say to that?" she laughed. Oscar threw his hands in the air, chuckling beside her. "I guess I'll need to find a new apartment soon, unless I want to put up with that every month…" Ryan shot them both a questioning glance before taking out his traditional turkey sandwich.

"Ryan," Oscar began. Pam continued to giggle in the background. "What would you do if your seventy-year-old landlord asked you to pick him up a prostitute instead of paying rent?"

"Don't forget the jar of pickles!" she squealed.

Ryan's mouth dropped open. "Wait, what!?" he exclaimed, and Pam dissolved into laughter once more. "Your landlord asked for a prostitute--"

"And a jar of pickles," she cut in.

"…And a jar of pickles," he finished, "for rent?"

"Yeah," she replied, managing to catch her breath to formulate an answer. "I went to his apartment to drop off my rent check, and he pulled me into his living room, and said that he didn't want my money this month. And so I started getting nervous, because hello? I was sitting in a creepy old man's living room and he said he wanted something other than money. So I started to inch away, when he was like 'Why don't you go downtown and find me a cheap prostitute? Oh, and pick me up a jar of pickles from the grocery store.'" By this time, Ryan, Oscar, and Phyllis were ready to fall onto the floor.

"That'll be Michael in the future," Oscar choked out between giggles, which sent everyone on another round of laughter.

After catching his breath, Ryan replied. "Not just in the future. You guys have no idea of the insane things Michael sends me to get him."

"Like what?" Pam's eyes twinkled in laughter.

"Honestly, you don't want to know," he responded, shaking his head in mock horror. She playfully nudged his shoulder as another giggle erupted.

After a while, Oscar stood, tossing his paper bag into the trash can behind them. "I should get back. My break ended about seven minutes ago."

"Oscar, I don't think Michael will even notice if you're an hour late," Pam reasoned.

The Mexican man lowered his voice. "Michael isn't the one I'm worried about," he gestured to Angela glaring in the doorway. "But I do expect updates on your landlord."

"No problem," she laughed. "I'm sure I'll have a fresh batch of information tomorrow." A few moments later, Phyllis followed Oscar's lead and left Ryan and Pam alone once again. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, focusing on their meager lunches. Ryan chewed his regular turkey sandwich slowly, pondering meaningless things. He hardly felt her hand on his arm. "Want some?" she asked, gesturing to the yogurt cup in her delicate fingers. "I know peach is your favorite."

"I don't have a spoon." She simply took hers out of the cup and held it out to him as well. He grinned and took the plastic utensil from her fingers before diving into the yogurt container. He licked the spoon clean and passed it back to her, taking her smile into his mind. "What?"

"You know," she began, licking the white spoon herself before dipping it back into her lunch. "Hypothetically, we just totally kissed."

Ryan smirked. "Okay, twelve-year-old. It's time to act like adults now." She simply shrugged and threw the empty yogurt container away before heading back to her desk. He rolled his eyes at her childish statement, and took a final bite before following her out the door. He couldn't understand why the back of his neck tingled as she said the word "kiss."

The rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful. Dwight made some inane accusations, while Michael somehow managed to distract everyone in the office without leaving his own. A normal day. At five o'clock, he packed up his briefcase and started to leave, only pausing to grab his coat from the rack beside Pam's desk. "Ryan, wait," she announced as he turned to walk away. He spun around and she was only a couple inches away from his face. His breathing hitched as he felt hers against his lips. She brought two fingers up to her mouth, and kissed them gently before pressing them against his lips. "I think that was us hypothetically making out," she whispered with a tiny grin. "See you tomorrow, twelve-year-old boyfriend."


	13. Chapter 13: Present

**Author's note: **Hey guys! I think this is my favorite chapter yet. I'm not really sure why. Maybe just cause it's long. Anyway, hope you guys like it as much as I do!

* * *

Pam had no idea where she was headed. All she knew was that she needed to get out of that office as quickly as possible. She wandered aimlessly through the parking lot. It would be nice to take a drive, but Jim always insisted on carpooling and she didn't have his keys. She could probably break into Meredith's van or hotwire Michael's convertible, but decided that grand theft auto probably wouldn't help anything. She settled on a stone bench around the corner, and her body shivered a little in the wind. However, her mind hardly noticed the cold. She needed to be outside a while to blow off steam. She absentmindedly picked at the grass beneath her, scrubbing each piece against the concrete she was sitting on until a long green line was left on the stone bench. She attempted to make swirls and other little designs with her newfound paintbrush, when she was interrupted.

"Still an artist at heart, huh?" She jumped slightly at the voice and quickly glanced around to find where it came from. The blonde began walking toward her. She sighed.

"Little tip: When someone storms out of a room claiming that they can't be around you anymore, it usually means that they don't want to be around you anymore."

"Eh, I've never been one to follow the rules," he shrugged, sitting beside her.

"How did you know I was here?"

He smirked at her before responding. "Come on, Pam. You really think I wouldn't know you'd be _here?" _She simply looked back at her "artwork." "Although, I am a little surprised you'd want to even be around this place anymore."

"Last time I was here, I was happy," she softly muttered. She knew he heard.

He leaned into her shoulder, slightly nudging her to the side. "You… wanna talk about it?"

"I'm pretty sure we just did enough of that."

"No," he responded, taking her hand. "About the happy parts."

She sighed quietly and pulled her hand away from his. "I can't."

They sat together in silence for a moment, both staring at the ground between their feet. "Okay," he announced. "Sorry about… that whole thing. Of course you don't blame Jim for anything."

"Ryan…"

"You know I'm right," he stared, pointedly. She tore away from his eyes. "Yeah. But I shouldn't have yelled like that. I mean, I never wanted our first 'post-relationship talk' to go that way."

She was quiet for a while, letting his words sink in as she continued to rub blades of grass between her fingers. "It's okay," she sighed, standing up. "We can just forget it ever happened." With that, she turned and began to walk back into the building.

"Wait," he called out, causing her to stop in her tracks. "Forget about the fight or… about our relationship?"

She whispered quietly. "Both."

"Fine," he yelled back, a little forcefully. She knew he was standing and attempting to close the distance between them. Suddenly, he was mere centimeters behind her. Her breath hitched as his hand found the small of her back and his breathing was hot in her ear.

"But I'm never going to forget about us."

Pam stayed standing outside for a while after Ryan had gone back in. She finally gathered her courage and scurried toward the Michael Scott Paper Company office. "Hey, Pam," he greeted cheerily. Ah, the actor that she had gotten to know too well had returned.

"Pam. Hello," her boss welcomed more stoically. She smiled warmly and waved back to him, and his serious demeanor melted a little. He watched as she reached into her overly large purse and set a small potted plant on the card table that was her shared desk. She also pulled a small lamp and a few picture frames out of her bag, and began arranging them around her workspace. One frame held a photo of her three-year-old niece, dressed up in her make-up and her old, poofy high school prom dress. The other was a picture of her and Jim, moments after their engagement. She had to beg the camera crew for a screenshot, and her fiancé had to cough up thirty dollars, but it was worth it. She decided to place that particular photo so that the back was facing Ryan. No need to give him any more reason to be upset. However, he hardly looked at her since she walked in. Instead, he chose to stare at the laptop screen in front of him.

"What do you need us to do, Michael?" He looked around his desk for some meaningless chore.

"Ah," he responded. "I need one of you to make me 800 copies of this coupon for unparalleled customer service! That's sure to grab us some clients! Anyway, someone just make those copies." He placed the bright yellow paper between his employees and turned back toward his desk. Pam waited for Ryan to make a move for the copy machine, but he simply stared at the paper like she did. However, there was no way she was going to make that copy. If she made that copy, then she'd become the "copy girl." And all of her old reception duties would become her job again, and the only reason she left her old job was to get away from all that. The worst part was, she secretly wanted to make that copy. The paper always came out warm, and it was freezing in their tiny closet of an office. But it wasn't going to happen. There's simply no way.

A quick look at Ryan's face told her that he wasn't about to make that copy anytime soon either. She sat back in her chair and fiddled with her engagement ring while he typed away on their shared laptop. Suddenly, Michael's voice interrupted their silence. "Hey, somebody needs to make me that copy! Ryan, could you do that?"

"Pam's better at that stuff."

She turned to his eyes to see if he was joking. Nope. "That is so insulting."

"How is it insulting to say you're good at something?" he replied without glancing up from the computer screen.

He had to be kidding. His eyes told her that he wasn't. "Because the thing you're saying I'm good at, is pushing a big green button a bunch of times."

"I'm not judging it," he finally tore his eyes away from Youtube to look into hers. "It's like… I can run GM. But I can't fix a car. It's not saying one is better than the other."

She grunted. "Seriously? Because it sounds like one of those is better than the other."

"Look," he said, leaning into her. "You're probably dying to do it, but you don't want to look like the receptionist again. If you get up and make this copy now, I won't think of you as a secretary. You'd just be someone doing her job. Besides, I know you love making copies."

"Stop saying that! You hardly know what I 'love.'" She crossed her arms before sinking lower into her chair.

"Really? We're gonna do this again?" he responded, referring to their earlier dispute.

"No," she gave in and he leaned back in his chair smugly. "But seriously, temp. I think I've got seniority here."

His smile left his face as he lurched forward. "You wanna talk about seniority, secretary? I was the youngest VP in Dunder Mifflin company history. And you haven't gone higher than a pathetic saleswoman at a worthless paper company?"

"One of you just make the copy!" Michael shouted from his desk. Pam simply glared at Ryan until he groaned and grabbed the paper before heading for the broken copier. She smiled at winning the argument and stole the laptop from Ryan's workspace. Ooh, a new email from Jim.

_PAM,_

_It's been, what, three days since you quit Dunder Mifflin? And already I'm falling apart. My boss hates me, I've got no one to prank Dwight with, and the new receptionist isn't nearly as flirtatious. I mean, what am I supposed to do here? Actually do work? Meh._

_I don't know if I've told you, but Dwight's suck-up tactics are actually working with Charles. And my 'do marginal work half-heartedly' ones aren't doing anything for me. I don't understand it! Nothing makes sense without you here. I miss you sitting ten feet from me._

_Love, Jim_

"Blech." Pam's nose wrinkled in confusion. She glanced over her shoulder to see Ryan pretend to vomit.

"What?" she asked, crossing her arms in defense.

"THAT'S the guy you're marrying? THAT guy?" She narrowed her eyes, and he continued. "Seriously, Pam. I thought you'd want a guy with more backbone. I mean, come on! Did you _read_ that message?"

"Yes, I did. And it was sweet. Wait," she paused. "Why were _you_ reading my email?"

He threw his arms in the air in defense. "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were doing work-related things on here."

"Right. Because you're always doing work-related things on here," she rolled her eyes and turned back to her email inbox, thinking their conversation was over. However, Ryan's voice broke through the air once more.

"God, would you just listen to him? 'Waaahh, nothing makes sense without you here. My boss hates me, I have no one to act ten years old with anymore, oh no!' Talk about an over-reaction." Pam wanted to remain stoic, but she couldn't help but giggle at Ryan's imitation of her fiancé. "Boo freaking hoo. I mean, you still see him _every day, _right? So you don't spend twenty four hours a day together anymore, big deal. Grow a pair." He ended his rant by leaning back in his chair, smugly throwing his feet onto the card table. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply stared at the laptop screen, letting his words sink in.

"Actually, I think you just proved it." A confused expression took over his face, and she continued. "That he's in love with me." Ryan laughed outright at that statement. She ignored him. "Look, there's no such thing as an 'over-reaction' when you're in love. And when you aren't together, you want to be. Even if it's only for part of the day. Plus, in a relationship, the man can't 'have a pair.' He just can't. Unless he wants the woman to walk on out." He smiled. "I mean, this email proves it. Jim really loves me."

He lurched forward until he was only a few millimeters from her face. "You think THAT'S love? That he _really _loves you? News flash, Pam: I loved you WAY more than this guy will--"

"Stop," she muttered, cutting him off. He looked like he wanted to continue, but she wouldn't let him. "Just… don't."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair once more. The room was filled with silence once more.

"Well, I do think you're wrong about one thing."

"What's that?"

"Girls don't love a pushover. They love a strong man, who doesn't display his pathetic loving emotions in an email."

"Nah," she said with a smile. "Girls _love _a guy they can walk all over."


	14. Chapter 14: Flashback

**Author's noooooote: **Hey you guys. So I tried to post this yesterday, cause I was in bed sick alllll day so I wrote like five chapters, but then when I tried, I kept getting this "error" message. All. Day. But I just woke up this morning and decided to try again, and it worked! hahh. So anyway, this chapter's a little shorter than my last couple, but the next flashbacks are longer. They're like three word document pages. Of course, I always say that, and then they never end up being very long. So... whatever.  
Also, sorry to I'm A Friggin Pokemon Master (by the way, LOVE yyour name.) and to anyone else if I confused you with the "blonde" thing. I don't think I ever refer to anyone as "the blonde" again, but if I do, and it's in the present, I'm probably talking about Ryan and not Angela. hahah.  
And as long as fanfiction doesn't block my postings again, I should have the next chapter up in a couple of days!

* * *

"Yes, it's true. I'll be spending my day with Dwight Shrute."

"Okay. Explain why. Make sure you're clear and concise."

"Well," Ryan breathed. He doesn't usually get called in to talk with the cameras, unless he's directly a part of something strange happening in the office. Mostly he tried to stay away from Michael and pointless rants and random arguments with the employees, so he hardly has anything to say to the documentary crew. However, this morning Randy the camera man gave him a hard tap on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow. He was sat down in front of the window and told to explain why Dwight was "paying him special attention" earlier with the pathetically simple brain teasers. "I have spent a year here. I have to commit or get out. Dwight's the top salesman in the company and he's taking me on my first sales call today. And, um, I'm… excited."

"Alright, that's probably all we need from you. Thanks," the middle-aged man replied. "Can you send Dwight in here?" Ryan nodded and returned to his desk, signaling Dwight into the conference room. He looked up from his computer screen to find Pam staring at him once more. However, he doesn't wonder "who" she's looking at anymore. He smiled as he sauntered over to reception and grabbed a few candies, popping them into his mouth one at a time.

"Hey, temp." He paused, lowering his hand from his mouth and choosing to glare at the woman in front of him.

"What did you just call me?"

A tiny smile was dancing on her lips. "Temp." His glare grew more furious and she giggled slightly in response.

"I'm not a temp anymore."

"Yeah, but calling you 'junior sales associate at a mid-range paper supply firm' doesn't quite have the same ring to it."

Ryan shrugged. "True," he gave in. "But what happened to 'twelve-year-old boyfriend'? I kind of liked that one."

"Meh," she joked, her soft hand rocking side to side, giving the 'so-so' sign. "But I decided we can't use those anymore." His eyebrow rose, silently questioning her statement. "When I called you that last night on the phone, some ladies at WalMart gave me a really weird look." Ryan laughed beside her, almost choking on his cherry Starburst. Pam had called him the night before. He was initially surprised, because they never talked outside of work, but the shock settled into gratitude. She greeted him with "Hey, twelve-year-old boyfriend." He laughed and returned the sentiment, but she interrupted him, saying, "I mean, my twenty-five-year-old coworker. Who is not my boyfriend. Nor twelve." Confused, Ryan asked her what she meant. "Uh, nothing. Anyway, hi!" He repeated her salutation, and they chatted mindlessly for a few minutes. He was worried they'd have nothing to talk about after his first attempt at conversation by telling her about a cold call he made earlier, and she replied "Oh, I really don't talk about work when I'm not at work. You know, ever." But she easily transitioned into something about her search for a new apartment, and afterwards they glided from topic to topic with ease. It was comfortable. "Hey, what's your favorite candy?" she asked.

"Um, I don't know. Why?"

"Because. I think it's time for a change at the reception desk. I've had jelly beans up there for years. And I _hate_ jelly beans. I only kept them because Jim…" she paused, and he heard a giant breath on the other line. "I just want to change them. And since you spend more time eating my candy than anyone, I figure I might as well please my biggest customer. So, favorite?"

He replied that he liked Starbursts, and she told him that she could unwrap one with just her tongue. He said that was the mark of a good kisser. They shared an uncomfortable silence, and Ryan let out an awkward "Um…" After a little while, she sarcastically remarked that she'd been told she had talent in that particular area. He laughed, and they continued the phone call effortlessly.

"Okay, okay," he let out, snapping out of his flashback and into their present conversation. "Fine. Our twelve-year-old relationship is over."

"Nah, the relationship can continue. But we'll have to keep it a secret," she replied, putting a finger to her lips for emphasis.

"So," he attempted to sound nonchalant. "We're in a secret relationship?"

She appeared to think about it for a moment, and he prayed that he didn't look hopeful. Ryan had spent the last few days trying to convince himself that he didn't like Pam Beesly, but he couldn't deny the happy shivers that ran through his body at her replying sentence. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"Alright," he breathed, and cursed his voice for cracking on the last syllable. She smirked, and he returned to his chair. They exchanged subtle glances for a few minutes until Dwight burst out of the conference room, beckoning Ryan to follow him out the door. The former temp sighed as he grabbed his briefcase, and went to steal his coat from reception.

"I can't believe you're ditching me to go on a sales call."

He smiled, relishing in the thought that she'd be lost without him. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone to eat with."

"Oh, I'm not worried about me," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "_I'll _be fine. What I meant was, I can't believe you're ditching me to go on a sales call and _spend the entire day with_ _Dwight._ Today is going to suck for you."

"Thanks for the support," he smirked. "See you later, secret girlfriend."

"Hey! 'Secret' means nobody knows about it. You can't call me your secret girlfriend. It ruins the secret." He shrugged as if to say he understood. "Have a **great **day, temp. Make me proud."

"Fine," he replied, glaring at her slightly. "Bye, secretary."


	15. Chapter 15: Present

**Author's note: **Okay, okay, I know it's short, but I don't care (: I have like three extra flashback posts written, so I've been trying to catch up with the present posts like crazy, and ugh. It's been a ridiculous week. Plus I have like three papers due on Friday, so. I don't know how much more I'll get done before then. I can probably get a flashback post up, since I've got so many written already, but that'll probably be it until sometime next week. Sorry /:  
Anyway, thanks for the reviews! I got some new story alert things after the last chapter, so I hope all you newbies like this one too! hahah.

* * *

"You better hurry, Pamcake," Michael called as she strolled out the office door. "People aren't going to like eating our pancakes without plates!" She barely heard his exclamation of "Hey! Pamcake's gonna be makin' pancakes! What a perfect day!" before she exited the lobby and was headed toward the uninviting elevator.

She walked into the Dunder Mifflin office, letting the warm, familiar air wash over her before taking a step inside. "Hi, may I help you?" the shy new receptionist asked, flooding Pam's mind with recollections of her former job. Dwight's stapler in jell-o, her first Christmas gift from Jim, the day Ryan found her in the break room… She shook her head, dumping the memories onto the hard floor beneath her. She meekly waved to the waiting receptionist before heading for her fiancé's desk.

"Hey," he replied, looking up at her with wide eyes, pleasant surprise on his face. He grinned before leaning up to peck her on the cheek. "What's up?"

"Well," she began, but was quickly interrupted.

"Jim!" Charles called, appearing out of Micha-- out of _his _office. "Do I need to remind your girlfriend about our 'no-visitors' policy, or are you going to?"

"I can do it… sir," he cautiously replied, turning toward her.

She smirked. "You were right. What's with that guy?"

"What are you doing here?" he cut her off.

"Oh," she responded, startled. "Um, Michael's sending me on a supply run, and I think I'll need a shopping buddy."

"Supply run?" he questioned, his eyes dancing with curiosity.

"Uh-huh," she mused. "For our pancake luncheon."

"Oh my--"

"Jim! Do we still have a problem here?"

"Uh, no sir," Jim stuttered, turning toward his boss. "Pam was just, uh… just leaving." Charles glared before ducking back into his office. Pam waited for the door to slam before speaking again.

"Okay, you really need this break. Come on, I'll drive."

"Pam," he sighed. "I can't."

"What? Of course you can. Come onnnnnn," she stood, tugging on his arm. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and slid his keys across the table.

"If Charles sees me gone, that'll be the end of it. I'm already screwing everything up here, something like this, and I'll be…" he trailed off, turning back to his computer screen.

Pam stood beside his desk in shock. "The Jim _I _know wouldn't blow off something fun for work. Or care about what his boss thinks of him. The Jim _I _fell in love with cares more about goofing around and having fun with me than about his job. I mean, where's _that _guy?"

"Pam, don't--" he started. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just…"

"Jim," Charles sighed. "I thought you said you could take care of this."

"Pam, I think you should just leave," Jim shouted with final authority.

"What?"

"Go," he sighed, nodding toward the door. "Now." She begrudgingly grabbed the car keys off his desk and headed for the hallway. Jim's voice called out to her as she reached the elevator, but she ignored him and pressed the "lobby" button.

"Stupid, lousy Jim," she muttered as she headed across the parking lot. She couldn't understand why her fiancé was being such a jerk about his job now. "Stupid, stupid Jim. 'I this you should leave!'" she mimicked. Poorly. "Stupid." Her incessant ramblings were interrupted by a voice shouting in front of her.

"Hey, beautiful!" She looked up to see who it was, and the answer sent a batch of new angry mutters through her mind. _Stupid, stupid Ryan. Stupid Ryan. God._

"What do you want, Ryan?" _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"Whoa, hey," he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. "No reason to get all testy." His voice lowered as she got closer. "I just thought that we could drive around the city that is Scranton together. Only, you know. Wasting _your _gas this time." She rolled her eyes, angry with him for remembering yet _another_ piece of their past.

"Where's Michael? Shouldn't you guys be YouTube-ing something right about now?"

"Well, I'm not sure he knows I'm gone. But, what's he going to do, right?"

"See, that's all I wanted from Jim. But would _he _do that? Nooooooo," she muttered as she got in the car. Ryan stood bewildered on the other side of the door. "Are you going to get in, or what?"

He snapped out of his daze and instantly followed her command. "Okay, first of all," he began, clicking on his seatbelt. She pulled out of the parking lot, a subtle angry demeanor taking over the steering wheel. "Are you really letting me come somewhere with you?" She thought about his statement, and was a little surprised herself with her reaction.

"I… I guess."

"Cool," he grinned. She couldn't help but smile back, which in turn made the corners of his mouth reach his eyes. "And second? Did I just _win _in a comparison with _Jim?"_

Oh my God, he did. She had just compared Jim with Ryan, and Ryan came out the victor. "Uh…"

"I'll take that as a yes," he smirked. She rolled her eyes and pressed the gas pedal more firmly.


	16. Chapter 16: Flashback

**Author's note: **Hey guys! Storytime: my brother's been out of town for a couple weeks, and he just got back today. So I thought that I wouldn't have any time to do anything fanfiction-wise, cause any free time I had would be spent hanging out with him. But, turns out that he missed a lot of his team's basketball games while he was gone. And so he's just been watching them on our DVR all. day. And I really don't like professional sports. Especially his team. San Antonio Spurs? Okay, fine. Maybe they're a good team. And maybe some of you like them. But we have no connections to San Antonio. haha. I thought you were supposed to like the team from your state/city? Whatever. Sports are so lame. Anyway, I really had no desire to watch basketball with him, so I just got on here and wrote. And wrote. And edited. And wrote. I'm up to like chapter 23 of this story, and I started two others (probably won't post them until I'm done with this one, though. One's mainly about Jim and the other's another Ryan/Pam, cause... duh :) so lookout for those if I get bored and decide to upload them!). And THEN I realized something: this story is getting way long. And it'll probably get way longer. Maybe I should just stop writing so many cutsey little filler things (kind of like this chapter?) and get down to the "real" parts of the story. But I really like the cutesy little filler things. gah I don't know. I guess I'm just going to ask those of you that read this thang on a regular basis: do you think the story is moving too slowly? Maybe I'm reading too much into this or something, but I've had a lot of time to think about the last couple hours while I was pretending to be interested in Tony Parker's free throw stats. :D I'm probably just going to keep writing to my little heart's desire anyway, but if some of you think I should just get down to business maybe I'll take that into consideration. Because, of course, this is all for you :) Aaaand.. end storytime.

Mk, so. This is The Initiation again. And the next flashback chapter is too. hahah. But come on! That episode was a loooong day :D

* * *

Ryan muttered incessantly to himself as he walked toward what he hoped was the Dunder Mifflin office. In reality, he was wandering around in an old beet patch, but he liked to think he was storming away somewhere "important." As important as Dunder Mifflin is, of course. He heard a car pull up on the dirt road beside him, and his grumblings only increased in volume as he realized who must have been driving it.

"Ryan, come on. I'm sorry. I am sorry. Mose is sorry too. Look, he sent over a basket with eggs and some fat-back bacon. And look, something he whittled!" Ryan sighed and took a moment to glance at the foreign, and inappropriate, he soon discovered, item. Dwight called out more of what he thought must be apologies, and Ryan eventually made his way to the passenger side. He slammed the door shut, and sat in silence, anger-filled tension radiating from his thin form. "As safety officer, I insist that you put your seat belt on before I start this automobile." Ryan rolled his eyes and slammed the seat belt into its buckle before returning to stew in his own despise for his coworker.

Dwight attempted to fill the painful silence with what he thought were interesting facts about the different species of mammals that lived in the mighty forests of Pennsylvania. Ryan simply scoffed at his "superior's" efforts at conversation and turned his attention to the open fields rushing by his window. Suddenly he was reminded of his freshman year of high school, his father trying to bond with him while driving around town in an embarrassing minivan. He shuddered at the thought of Dwight being his father in this situation.

"You still mad?" the beet farmer asked, snapping Ryan out of his uncomfortable day dream. "It's just… Jim and I didn't get along, and I didn't want it to be that way again. You know, I wanted us to be a team. An unstoppable team that competed against other teams." Oh, so Dwight was trying to be his friend. Ryan didn't know which thought made him more depressed; Dwight being his father, or his best friend. He decided that neither concept was appealing.

"Look, that… That's not what I wanted, okay? I just wanted to go on a sales call."

"Ugh, screw gun," Dwight interrupted, pulling an extremely dangerous u-turn on the busiest street in Scranton. Ryan immediately grabbed the armrest beside him with all the strength he had, sending a panicked glance to the cameraman in the backseat. He knew Dwight Shrute would eventually be the death of him, but he always figured it would be because Dwight snuck into his bedroom with a bazooka at night, or cloned a wolverine and brought it to the office. Never just a "simple" car accident. "The sales call!"

"Wha-- You forgot the sales call?"

"Just… Zip your lid!" Dwight replied, flailing his right arm in an attempt to calm Ryan down. "Okay, here are a few things to remember when you get inside." Ryan sighed and returned his attention to the window to his right. Whatever Dwight was about to say probably had something to do with beets, and Ryan knew that wouldn't help him in the slightest. He let thoughts of Pam run through his mind as he prepared to ignore his coworker's advice. "Establish time frames. Keep the phrase 'real dollars' in their heads. And _always _keep the power in the conversation." Dwight was getting more frantic with each sentence. Ryan hated to interrupt his thoughts of the cute receptionist, but he had a tiny nagging feeling that what Dwight was yelling about might be useful. "That's why you're losing them on the cold calls! Cause you say the word 'please' too much!" Ryan reluctantly snapped out of his mind and pulled a pad of paper from his briefcase.

"Wait, can you go back?"

"Michael always said, K.I.S.S. Keep it simple, stupid. Great advice, hurts my feelings every time." Ryan took a moment to glance back at the camera with a knowing expression before writing the rest of Dwight's tips. Soon enough, they pulled into a parking space, and Dwight was hopping out of the car with a little too much enthusiasm. Ryan, suddenly overcome with nervousness, stumbled out of the passenger seat, grabbing his briefcase before shutting the door. "What are you going to do, kid?"

"Okay," he stammered. "I'm going to establish time frames."

"Good."

"I'm going to put everything in terms of 'real dollars.'"

"Right."

"I'm going to ask a lot of questions that all have sort of positive answers," Dwight nodded beside him. "Saying, that **would** be better, or we **would **like that. That sort of thing."

"Yes! Exactly!"

"I'm going to try to be confident, but not cocky."

"Yeah, well. Good luck with that one," Dwight muttered, stealing a glance at the camera.

"Wait, what?" Ryan stuttered. Before he had time to continue, a pudgy man exited his office and came to greet them.

"Mr. Winston. Hello," Dwight announced loudly, extending his arm for a handshake. "Dwight Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager of Dunder Mifflin, Scranton. At your service."

"To the," Ryan coughed. Dwight snapped his head around to glare at Ryan.

"Uh, temp. Rule four."

_Be confident, not cocky. _"Right," Ryan muttered to himself before bravely stepping forth to shake his (hopefully) future client's hand. "Hello, sir. I'm Ryan Howard."

"Ryan, nice to meet you. Henry Winston. Why don't you gentlemen come into my office so we can chat?" Ryan nodded and followed Dwight into a fairly large room. He swallowed loudly and willed his hands to stop shaking. His senior coworker patted him on the back before grabbing a seat.

"You've got this one."

That seemed to be the little push he needed to get through this meeting. Well, that and Pam's shining eyes as he left the Dunder Mifflin office. _"Make me proud."_ He was sure going to try.

* * *

Ryan forced the front door open as Dwight was saying his goodbyes. "They really didn't like me."

"No they did not," the beet farmer replied, catching up to him. "They didn't have to say it to your face."

"I don't get it," he groaned, suddenly sounding desperate. "I don't get what I did wrong."

"Not everything's a lesson, Ryan. Sometimes you just fail." Ryan rolled his eyes at his coworker's attempt to be sympathetic. _Yeah, I just failed. That's real helpful, Dwight. I'll just go back to the office empty-handed and tell Pam that I simply "failed." There's no reason why I couldn't have landed this sale, other than the fact that I merely didn't._

Oh, God. Pam.

He was going to have to go back to that office without anything to tell her. After she told him to make her proud. This certainly wouldn't make her proud. I mean, Jim made tons of sales every single day! Why would she be impressed with him when he couldn't even _begin_ to fill Jim's shoes?

But why is he comparing himself to Jim, anyway? It's like comparing… apples and oranges. The only thing they have in common was that they were both in love with Pam.

Wait--he didn't mean that. He's certainly not in love with Pam. That would be crazy. Not to mention pathetic. It would be completely and utterly _pathetic_ for him to fall in love with her, since she's so obviously interested in someone else. In _Jim. _Having a crush on Pam while she's in love with someone else would be more like Jim than Ryan ever wanted to be. He hated _Jim. _He just couldn't figure out… why.

Suddenly Ryan was filled with a complicated mixture of anger, sadness, worry, and pity. Pity for himself. For being such a loser. He couldn't make one sale, when Jim made… No, he's not going there again. He's worried about having to walk into that office later and inform a hopeful Pam… Michael. A hopeful _Michael_ that he had failed once more. He couldn't figure out why he was sad or angry. Because… he lost the sale? Yeah, must be it. Certainly not because of his feelings for a certain receptionist and the man she was desperately in love with. Because, of course, he didn't have feelings for any receptionist.

Of course not.


	17. Chapter 17: Present

**Author's note:** This is another favorite chapter of mine. I guess I just like the longish ones (: Some of you might get mad at the ending, though. Cause Pam is thinking one thing, and just totally changes her mind in like two seconds. You'll see what I mean when you read it. I mean, I tried** not **to write it that way, because it didn't seem very realistic, but in the end I decided to keep it. Because it's probably my favorite part so far. She's just confused and in love! hahah. I don't know. But it's **my** story, right? :D Hmmm I also added a teeny tiny little part in the middle from Ryan's perspective. I think that's everything you need to know about the chapter. So...  
**Author's note part 2: **Thanks so much for all of your reviews/messages giving me advice about the story. I greatly appreciate it :D But after I posted that little freak-out-session, I checked what I had written for this chapter, and realized that the story kind of picks up right now. So, that was kind of unnecessary. But regardless, thanks for everything, reviewers. You guys are the best!  
**Author's note part 3: **Okay, this is my last author's note for this chapter hahah. But I thought maybe those of you at Office fanfiction would understand this better than anyone I've talked to about it. Have any of you seen the little promos for tomorrow's episode? Cause I did. And I am FREAKING OUT! hahah. Apparently either Michael or Jim is gonna be demoted to a salesman. And oh my gosh, I can't handle it! At first, I didn't want either of them to be demoted. But now, I kind of want Michael to stay manager. Because, that's the show, right? Michael's kind of a moron, but somehow he was still put in the position of power. And if he gets demoted, it won't be the show anymore. I don't know. I have a feeling it'll be Michael that has to be a salesman again, because it'll mean fresher storylines and whatever. But I just miss Salesman Jim. He's so lame now. Ugh. Who would you rather see stay on as manager?  
Who knows. Maybe they'll both be demoted and Dwight will become regional manager. Welcome to Hotel Hell!  
Enjoy the chapter (:

* * *

"So," Ryan sighed, interrupting their silence. "How many people do you think will even come to this thing?"

Pam groaned and shrugged her shoulders. "Probably not very many."

"Then… why are we here?"

"You think this was my idea?" she questioned, tossing a package of fifteen paper plates into their shopping cart. "Can you just grab the paper towels so we can get out of here?" He nodded slowly, taking a roll. "Um, get like three more."

"What? You only got fifteen plates!"

"Ryan," she looked at him for the first time since their parking lot excursion. "_Michael _is making pancakes. Do I really need to explain to you why we need extra napkins?"

"Got it," he laughed, seizing an armful of heavy-duty paper towels. "Think this will be enough?"

She reached over to silently count the items emerging from his grip. "Six rolls?" she smiled. "Yeah, that should do it. Hopefully." He grinned back before stumbling toward her, letting his arms drop the overflow of objects into the cart.

"Okay, before we go, I wanna check out the--"

"Ryan!" a voice called out, interrupting their conversation. Pam watched as he slowly turned around to find a short, mini-skirt-wearing girl calling out to him.

"H—Hey, Monique…" he called back, and Pam held in a laugh as the color drained from his face. He spun around to face her, his eyes swimming with slight fear. "Please get her away from me." Pam hardly had time to react before 'Monique' made her way toward them.

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" the tiny girl called again, much louder and more high-pitched than before. Ryan's eyes widened when she put her perfectly manicured hand on his. "I haven't seen you in for_ever," _she continued, oblivious to Ryan's squirm at the sound of her voice. "Not since our _amazing _weekend in Fort Lauderdale!"

"Fort Lauderdale?" Pam questioned, raising her eyebrow. Ryan shrugged, although Pam couldn't tell if it was in response to her statement or to shake the high-pitched twenty-year-old off of his arm.

"Why haven't you called me?" she whined, gripping his bicep more tightly. He winced. "You said you would call, but you didn't. Why, Ryan? Why?" He shrunk under her piercing gaze, and Pam was suddenly reminded of Ryan's past relationship with a completely different girl from the office. For some reason, she decided to take pity on him and stepped in.

"Hi," she announced, but the little blonde girl pretended not to hear. "_Hi," _Pam said again, more forcefully. This time, both Ryan and his little wanna-be girlfriend turned to look at her. "I'm Pam. Ryan's fiancé." Their mouths dropped open, and Pam reached her left hand out to grab his, making sure to show off her diamond engagement ring.

"You're his _what!?" _Pam couldn't help but giggle. "Ryan, is this true? Are you really getting _married?" _He stood still for a moment, continuing to stare open-mouthed at his coworker. She squeezed his hand a little, trying to snap him out of the daze.

"Um…. Yeah." He looked ready to continue, but the preppy girl wouldn't let him.

"What the HELL, Ryan! When did this happen!? You know, it's only been a couple of weeks since we were together in Florida!"

"Yeah," he sighed, slowly coming out of his stupor. Somehow, he couldn't shake his gaze from Pam's hand in his. "Well, being with you only made me realize how much I love Pam, I guess…"

"Aw, baby," Pam cooed. She hoped that 'Monique' wouldn't sense the obvious fake tone she was putting on. Ryan looked up at her and smiled. They stayed like that, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes, until their third wheel strutted over and slapped Ryan across the face.

"I can't believe you, Ryan Howard," she spit out before storming off. Ryan whimpered and rubbed his cheek until Pam managed to catch his eye once more.

"Oh my God, Pam!" he exclaimed, pulling her in for a hug. She was immediately surprised by his reaction, but found herself wrapping her arms around him anyway. "That was amazing!" he laughed, picking her up and twirling around in the middle of the supermarket.

"Not a big deal, Ryan," she sighed when he set her down.

"No, seriously," he drew back to look into her eyes. "I can't thank you enough. You're the most incredible girl I know." She smiled softly for a moment, closing her eyes. A tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her to pull away, but being in Ryan's arms again provided more comfort than she remembered. After a few moments, he cleared his throat awkwardly and she opened her eyes, dropping her arms from his. "I, uh…. I should go look at th-- at that… that, uh, thing…" he trailed off, walking away to an unknown destination. Pam sighed.

She looked into their cart and decided that two rolls of paper towels would suffice, rather than the seven they had, and placed the excess onto the shelf before wandering aimlessly down the next aisle. Somehow, even though he hadn't left the building, her trip to the supermarket had become less of an adventure and more of a chore with Ryan gone. She mindlessly browsed the shelves and waited for his return.

* * *

_What are you doing? _

The question hadn't stopped running through Ryan's mind since he abandoned Pam in the napkin aisle. He ran a hand through his hair as he stormed farther away from where she was. _She's engaged, Ryan. Engaged! _He paused then, choosing to lean against the shelves and prayed they wouldn't tip over. _She's engaged… to __**Jim. **_To Jim. The one guy Ryan knew he could never compete with. The one guy that interrupted his and Pam's "relationship," if you could call it that, the last time. The one guy that continued to ruin Ryan's life, even though he didn't know it. _You will __**never have her, **__Ryan. Let it go._

That thought pierced through all the others running in his mind. He will never have her. He never really had her before, even. Not really. Sure, they had gone on many dates, and she spent more hours at his apartment than he could count, but she was never _really _his. They never had the "relationship" talk. They never disclosed anything to HR. And at the end, she didn't think she was doing anything wrong when she… "No,"he sighed, collapsing onto the ground in the middle of the supermarket. Too hard to relive.

She never belonged to him. Jim always had her, and he always will. All Ryan had, and could ever have, were minuscule moments with the girl he knew would always have the biggest piece of heart. Ryan groaned with that realization and stood, deciding that he couldn't ignore her forever.

* * *

"Hey," he announced, suddenly appearing by her side once more.

"Hey," she grinned, only glancing at him for a second before turning her attention back to the shelves in front of her. Apparently, she had ended up in the candy aisle. She could feel his eyes on her as she pretended to search through the bags of sweets.

"You know what I miss the most about Receptionist Pam?" he softy questioned, interrupting their uncomfortable silence.

"No," she tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting him to realize that his presence alone was making her weak. Adding his voice to that, well. Pam felt like fainting. "What?"

"The candy."

Confused, Pam looked up and searched his eyes for any sign of "candy" being a metaphor for something else. Maybe he wanted to say that "candy" was a symbolic gesture for their entire relationship, or maybe it was meant to be an inappropriate reference for a couple parts of her body. But as he stared back, small and helpless, she found nothing. "What?"

"You know," he nudged her. "Sneaking up to your desk and stealing Starbursts. Now that you're Saleswoman Pam, I don't get to do that anymore."

Ah. "Candy" _was _a metaphor for something else. "So you miss hanging out at my desk," she supplied.

"Nah," he smirked. "I just miss the candy." She rolled her eyes and grabbed a sack of Starbursts, dropping them into the cart below. Ryan's eyes followed the small bag until they plunked into the wire basket beneath them, and his face twisted into a confused expression as he looked around the remainder of their shopping items. "Wait… What happened to all the paper towels!?" She laughed softly and said she had put them back. "Ugh, Pam! Wait right here."

"Ryan," she called out to him, but he was already out of the aisle. "We don't need that many!"

"It's _Michael!" _he shouted back. She giggled softly; he must have been three aisles away, but he continued their conversation as though they were the only two in the store. For some reason, the thought made her feel special. Like she had while Jim was in Stamford. _No… Not when Jim was away. Jim makes me feel special. Just… this morning. He did something this morning, right? Of course. Jim makes me feel special **every. day.**_

"Ryan!" she yelled in return. She wanted to follow him and tell him that two rolls of paper towels would be good enough. She wanted him to argue back, and grab as many rolls from the shelves as possible and throw them in the cart. She wanted to pick them back up one by one, placing them on the shelf while he glared at her actions. To have a paper towel fight in the middle of WalMart. To argue about something pointless and have him make up for it later with an embarrassingly sweet gesture. Just like they used to do. Ryan quickly returned, arms filled with rolls of paper towels, and they headed for the checkout line. He paid for everything when they reached the register, and held the door open for her when they left. He offered to unload the items into her trunk when they reached the car, and smiled every time she caught his eye in the rearview mirror. He _cared_.

Sure, Jim cared too. He always knew when to make her laugh or to let her cry. He knew when to tell her she looked gorgeous and when to leave her alone. On paper, he was the perfect guy. And Jim _**is **_perfect. God knows, she has wanted him for **so. long. **But being with Jim always felt somewhat… fake. Like he was way too perfect, their relationship couldn't possibly be real. Or that he was so wonderful, there's no way he would actually settle for her. Being with Ryan was… different. Better. Not because she thought Ryan wasn't as good as Jim, but because Ryan certainly _wasn't _her idea of perfect, but he made up for it with how _imperfect _he was. Because Ryan definitely knew how to make mistakes, but he usually found a way to fix them. Because Ryan is… a person. Ryan is a mess, and a jerk, and he's rude, and he says things without thinking, and he can make a girl fall in love with him and then break her heart, but **he'll try so hard not to** because he's sweet, and sensitive, and cuddly, and he'll cry watching the _Friends _finale and beg you not to tell his coworkers about it. Because he's _real. _And he _is _perfect in his own, little imperfect way. And he's so, he's so…

He's so right for her.

"Hey gorgeous," he announced, slipping into the passenger seat.

"Hey," she smiled, turning toward him. "I…" Just then, the Spice Girls came blaring from her cell phone. After dodging a look from Ryan at her ringtone choice, Pam flipped it open and stared at the text message on her screen.

_Pam, sorry about before. I shouldn't have taken my work frustrations out on you. Tell Michael to save me a pancake, cause I definitely won't want to miss that luncheon ;) Love you so much._

A small smile made its way across her face. Sure, she might feel that Jim is way too good for her, but what's wrong with aiming for perfection? And what's wrong with wanting someone who has his life together, and who's always polite and always caring? Someone who would never cry at the _Friends _finale, but will always be there to hold her when she does? And Jim _also_ has the potential to shatter her heart into a million pieces, but she knows he never would. _That's not true. He broke your heart when he went to Stamford, didn't he? That point is taken away. Jim: 0. _Sure he left, but he came back, _didn't he? _And she wasn't even dating him back then. But she's with him now, and he'll never leave her. Never.

**Jim:** 1. **Ryan: **...

_**Ryan:**__ 1 million._


	18. Chapter 18: Flashback

**Author's note: **Hmmmk. The end of The Initiation episode! hahah gosh. That single episode took like three chapters. Anyway, the first part of this post starts off with Pam's perspective. I just didn't think I could write her phone conversation with Jim from Ryan's point-of-view. So the first part is from hers. And then it switches over to our beloved former temp (: Also, I love my reviewers more and more each day. You guys are the best.

* * *

"And how many kitchens?" the familiar voice asked, a hint of laughter in his tone.

"I have one kitchen," she replied, smiling. Her smirk grew as she heard his gorgeous snicker on the other line.

"Wow. You got totally taken for a ride, Beesly!" She giggled with him and attempted to reply, but he interrupted her. Not that she minded. At all. "Most apartments these days have like, three."

"Right," sarcasm seeping through the phone line. "Three kitchens?" Without warning, a completely different object of her affections came bursting through the office door. He looked… upset. She had become quite good at recognizing his different emotions, but even _without_ her newfound talent, she could probably feel the disappointment radiating from him at that moment. She somewhat abandoned her phone call and instead chose to worry about the former temp. He stormed to his desk, forcibly throwing random sheets of paper and a few pencils into his briefcase. Dwight strolled in a few seconds later, seemingly watching over the other man in the room. She faintly heard a few calls of her name in her left ear, but pushed them aside and called out to her new best friend. "Ryan? Are you okay?"

He paused his mini-tirade and sighed. "Yeah…" he replied, but kept his focus on his desk beneath him. "Yeah." She turned toward Dwight, who simply nodded at her before strutting out the door, leaving her and Ryan alone.

"Pam? Pam!?" Well, not exactly _alone_.

"I'm here. Sorry. What were you saying?" she replied, a little distracted. Her thoughts still centered on Ryan.

"It's okay. I, uh, I just said that it's impossible to cook all three meals in one kitchen." She laughed half-heartedly, but he seemed to buy it. Ryan had finished packing his things and headed for the door, pausing only to place a small white object on her desk. He gave a little wave and turned to walk away. Curious, she grabbed the tiny figurine for a better look.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

* * *

Ryan tried to hide his amusement as he finished putting the useless faxes into his briefcase. Whoever Pam was talking to, she blew off to make sure he was okay. He didn't understand why he enjoyed that fact so much. She had turned back to her phone conversation, although without the usual enthusiasm she shared when she talked with him, and he began to leave. Not wanting to go without making contact with her, he placed Mose's whittling creation on her desk and waved before heading out the door.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Ryan smiled as she gasped at his little "gift." He had gotten her attention from the person on the phone once more. He pushed his immature jealousy aside and slowed his pace, listening for more of her reaction.

"Bye, Jim." His eyes grew wide as the receiver clicked, signaling she hung up. _She was talking to Jim? _He whirled around to face her, and was surprised to find her only mere inches from his face, skipping toward him with joy. However, she hadn't taken his sudden stop into account, and crashed into his thin frame, sending them tumbling to the ground. Ryan's briefcase was digging sharply into his thigh, Pam's hair washing over his face. He grunted, causing her to giggle slightly. She pulled her head from his shoulder, and he instantly felt colder. He told himself that he didn't know why, but a tiny feeling in the back of his mind didn't want her to leave his side. Ever. On the other hand, her head leaving the crook of his neck meant that her face suddenly appeared directly in front of him, and he definitely didn't mind _that _view. She looked at him with such an intensity, all Ryan could do was gulp loudly. A small smile tugged on her mouth, and he let out a tiny grin in return. She bit her bottom lip in anxiety, and closed her beautiful, sparkling eyes. As he stared into her face, memorizing everything he could from this moment, it took all he had not to kiss her right there. _Stop it, Ryan. You don't like Pam. _She opened her eyes again and sighed a little into him before rolling to the side. Immediately Ryan was saddened with the disappearance of her warmth. However, he didn't fail to notice the fact that her hand was still tangled up with his. They stayed like that for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, letting their breathing flow together. In and out, in and out.

"Did you hang up on Jim to come lay on the floor with me?"

He heard her soft intake of breath. His question had surprised him, too. "I guess I did," she smiled, turning to look at him. He kept his eyes on the fluorescent lights above them, but he couldn't help the tiny grin that erupted over his face. She squeezed his fingers before returning her attention to the ceiling tiles. "Although, I didn't really think we'd be laying on the ground. I was going for more of a hug." His smile widened and he jumped to his feet, with a little too much enthusiasm. She laughed a little at his actions and pretended to refocus on counting the ceiling tiles, but her curious eyes gave her away. She grabbed his outreached hand, and he pulled her from the floor in one smooth motion, trying not to laugh as she searched his arms for a sign of muscle. When they were both comfortably standing, he stretched his arms out to her, and a puzzled expression stared back.

"Hug?"

"Oh, right," she laughed, and leaned into him for a few seconds before trying to pull away. For some reason, he had decided to be brave and simply held her tighter. "Oh…" she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He couldn't help but smile as she snuggled into his shoulder, her gentle breath keeping him warm in the otherwise chilly office building. _Okay, maybe you like her a little. _He leaned against her head, subtly breathing in her scent. It was something he didn't recognize, but it was sweet. Very sweet, but it had a sort of _punch_ that "normal" sweet things didn't possess. She smelled sweet and… kind of sassy. Perfect.

Eventually, Pam sighed and Ryan reluctantly let her go. However, she didn't go very far. He kept her right hand, and began running his thumb over her slender fingers. "So," she laughed softly. "What was that about?"

Ryan didn't know how to respond. What _was _that about? It's not like he could tell her he was in love with her or something. Not that he would tell her that. Because it's completely untrue. He's certainly not in love with Pam Beesly. He doesn't even like her! _Yes you do. _Fine, he likes her a little. A normal amount. _Yeah, normal. If you're a psycho stalker from a cheesy horror movie. Or if you're Jim. _Alright, he likes her. He likes her a lot. But **love? **

"Come on," he cracked a smile. "You're my secret twelve-year-old girlfriend. If I can't hug you, what can I do?"

"Ahh," she giggled. "You've moved past the hypothetical make-out phase much quicker than I have."

His eyebrows shot up, sending another smile across her lips. "Do you… want me to make out with you?"

"Hypothetically," she shrugged. His liking her had elevated from cheesy psycho stalker to that of a sappy prince from one of those old Disney movies. _But I still don't love her. _Never letting go of her hand, Ryan scooped his coat and briefcase off the floor and the two headed toward the elevator. They remained in a comfortable silence as he walked her to her tiny Yaris. "I'm going to take the risk of sounding corny, but… I don't think I want this night to end."

Ryan's eyes grew wide as he contemplated the meaning behind her words. Certainly she didn't mean she wanted to… No. Did she? "I, hum… Uh?"

"That's not what I meant. Please Ryan, you really think I sleep around on the first date?" she laughed, pushing him away. He only blinked. _Date? _"Do you want to grab some coffee? Maybe waste your gas and drive around the city that is Scranton." He let out a breath and led her to his small car, opening the passenger door for her before settling into his own seat.

"So, please tell me what this is about," she giggled and pulled Mose's creation from her purse as he started the engine. Seeing the miniature statue again, Ryan erupted into laughter with her.

"Well, when I signed up for a lesson with Dwight, I don't think I fully realized what I was getting into…"


	19. Chapter 19: Present

**Author's note: Hey guys! for some reason my jkasdlf computer won't unbold this, so here we go. hahah. I feel like it's been a while since I updated (or even got on fanfiction..), so I'm sorry. BUT this chapter is like SUPER long so hopefully that makes up for it. There's also a LOT that goes on, so. Don't wanna miss it (: Love you guys tons.**

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"Nope, I don't have a card," Pam muttered, embarrassed. "But, I can do you one better. A little scrap of paper!" She tore the corner off one of Michael's flyers and wrote the company contact information down in the best handwriting she could muster. The man… Russell something? took the pathetic excuse for a business card and thanked her before walking off.

"Sure you don't want any pancakes?" Michael shouted after the man, but he didn't hear (or ignored) her boss. Pam sighed and unwrapped one more roll of paper towels as Michael spilled another batch of pancake batter onto the table beneath him.

"So, is that the fourth roll? Or the fifth?" Pam turned to find Ryan standing behind her, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes and walked toward the trash cans in front of the office building. They had probably gone through 500 paper towels in the twenty minutes they had been outside. Just then, Creed and Meredith came bounding through the lobby doors.

"Hello, Paula," Creed greeted, and Meredith merely grunted as they headed for the pancake table.

"Meredith!" Pam called out, and the red-head groaned before making her way toward Pam once more. "Is, um… Is Jim coming?"

"I don't know, Miss Thing. Now, get out of my way. I need to go steal about thirty pancakes for my kid." Pam rolled her eyes and let her former coworker go. She began to walk back to undoubtedly clean up another one of Michael's messes, when the call of her name rang through the parking lot. She spun around, and delight instantly erupted on her face when she saw the person coming toward her.

"Hey," Jim said when he reached her. "Did'ja save me a pancake?"

"Of course," she giggled. "You know, Michael _only_ made about a hundred. You're lucky you showed up when you did."

"Oh, thank God," he over-acted. "Wouldn't want to miss out on this." She smiled again, and Jim grabbed her hand as they walked toward her boss. "I needed a break from work anyway. Charles has me freaked out over this 'rundown' thing." She looked up, silently questioning him with her eyes. "He wants me to type up a rundown of my clients. What do you think that means?"

"Maybe a list?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. But then, why not just say 'list'? Why 'rundown'? Is he trying to make me go insane? It can't be just a list!"

"Well, I don't know then, Jim," she sighed, leaning away from him ever-so-slightly.

He seemed to notice the tension, and pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Sorry. I'm not taking this dumb job stuff out on you again. I'm sorry. It's just… I don't know why I keep messing up with Charles. Maybe it's because you aren't there," he joked, poking her in the ribs. She laughed and let a squeal of "Jim!" erupt from her lips, but quickly quieted down when she saw her coworker's face. Ryan was staring after her, subtle hurt tugging at his eyes. She may not have even noticed it if she wasn't so familiar with every single one of his emotions, but she was, and even the smallest of Ryan's pain seemed to cut through her like a knife. She opened her mouth to say something, but he dropped her gaze, and she cleared her throat before turning to Michael.

"So, Michael," he looked up from his cooking. "Jim wants to try one of your famous paper-shaped pancakes."

It was then that her boss seemed to notice Jim standing beside her, and his face exploded with pure excitement. "Oh! Well, of course! Only the best for my Jimbo," he enthused, attempting to flip a giant pancake on his tiny spatula. It fell onto their stack of bright yellow flyers (which doubled as business cards, apparently), sending tiny bits of greasy breakfast food spraying in every direction. "Aw man! Don't worry Jimothy. Another pancake coming right up!"

"Uh, don't strain yourself, Michael," Jim muttered before walking to join Pam at the other end of the table. She sighed and pulled the roll of paper towels from her brown paper shopping bag.

"And that's the end of roll four," Ryan snickered a few feet from her. She glanced over and smirked at him before wiping up everything she could from Michael's flyers. Jim peeked into the shopping bags and let out a low whistle.

"That's a _lot _of paper towels."

"Yeah," Pam breathed, turning her focus from her current coworker to her current fiancé. "Four rolls down, three to go. You should check out how full the garbage cans are."

"You bought seven rolls!?" he laughed with her. "Sounds like the perfect amount. I can imagine you standing in WalMart for hours, trying to calculate just how many paper towels would be needed for each Michael spill."

"Oh, right," she giggled. "It was so hard to figure out. You should have been there to help me."

His face turned somber, and she instantly wished she could take it back. Even though she was only teasing him, Jim obviously felt bad about ditching her earlier. She always knew that with Jim, she needed to choose her words carefully. Even when she was only joking with him, he took everything she said so seriously. "Yeah, I should have. I'm really sorry, Pam." She squirmed awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. "But," he began again, a more playful tone in his voice. "Looks like you did a pretty good job by yourself anyway."

She smiled. "Well, I didn't think we needed seven rolls. If we had only gotten two like _I_ wanted, you would have walked out here to find us drowning in spilled pancake batter. I guess I'm lucky Ryan came with me." Over Jim's shoulder, she could see Ryan's face light up, ever-so-slightly, and the two locked eyes for a moment until Jim interrupted her.

"Wait, Ryan went with you?" his happy tone had left and was replaced with the one she had heard in the office earlier. That voice had appeared more times today than in the lifetime she had known Jim, and she didn't like it.

"Y-yeah. It was… fun," she stuttered. Ryan chuckled softly behind Jim.

"Fun? Pam, you hate that guy." Before she could respond, Pam heard Ryan's sullen sigh and barely caught his gaze before he turned away.

"I don't hate him, Jim."

"Yes you do," he growled, sounding desperate and jealous; two of the most unattractive qualities a man could wear. "Remember, when you were in New York? And you called and I told you that Ryan had taken over your reception job? And you said… 'I hate that guy.' Remember?"

"No!" she shouted, partly to Jim, but mostly to Ryan. If only she could get him to hear her explanation, then she wouldn't have to look into those heart-wrenching eyes. "I mean, yes, I remember. But… I didn't mean that I actually _hated _him. It's just like… an expression. Like," she searched her brain for anything that might make this all okay. "Like… Remember back when I was with Roy? And that one time you made me laugh so hard that I said 'I love you'? Obviously I didn't mean that either!"

Jim's eyes twisted into that mixture of pain and disappointment that she'd seen in Ryan's too many times before. "You don't love me?"

"No!" her eyes grew wide. "That's not what I meant." She put her head in her hands, leaning against the pancake table. "Jim," she breathed through her fingers. "Of course I do. I love you so much," she looked up. He was staring down at her, his eyes softening with each word. "That was a… stupid comment. A mistake. I'm sorry. I love you, okay?" He nodded, a small grin forming on his thin lips. "But I don't hate Ryan." The smile left his face.

"Then how do you feel about him?"

Any trace of air left her lungs and she collapsed onto the table beside her. She never thought that Jim would ask her that. "What?" she gasped, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"How," he asked again, his voice rising with each syllable. "Do you feel. About. **Ryan**?"Both Michael and Ryan looked up at this, and Pam glanced around frantically for a way out. She had no idea how to answer that question.

"I, uh…" she whispered, and her coworkers had the decency to turn away. Michael appeared to focus all of his attention on flipping his eight by eleven inch pancakes, while Ryan decided to walk to the other end of the parking lot. "I do-- I don't…"

"Do you love him?" She whipped up to look at him, an alarm ringing in her head so loudly that he must have heard it. He seemed to mistake her surprise for denial, and continued. "Look, I don't know what went on with you guys when I was in Connecticut, but--"

"Nothing!" she yelled, suddenly finding her voice. "Nothing happened! Jim, I love _**you**__!" _

"Pam, I'm not stupid!" he shouted back, sounding just as hysterical as she had. "I see the way he looks at you! I can tell how tense and upset you get whenever somebody so much as _mentions_ his name!" Pam buried her head in her hands again, tears springing to her eyes.

"No, no, no," she muttered, shaking her head. _This is not happening._

"I never asked you about it, because I figured if it was something serious, you would have told me. But now, I ca-- I just, I… Pam, I deserve to know," he sighed, defeated. She looked up and found his tear-stained eyes staring back at her. "I have to know."

All she could manage to do was close her eyes and lower her head, praying for this to be over. Her mouth managed to form a sentence so quietly that had it not been eerily silent, Jim wouldn't have heard it. "I don't know."

She felt him angrily push away from her and his gruff voice rang loudly through her ears, even though he whispered it so softly that Michael couldn't possibly have picked it up from two feet away. "Call me when you figure it out."

She tried to call out to him, but her voice wouldn't produce any sound. She wanted to collapse onto the hard concrete below, so violently that it tore up her skin and left her life-ruining blood permanently etched into the gravel. But she couldn't even manage to fall. Her world remained dark and silent for what felt like hours, the only sound was Jim's feet constantly walking away from her, the only sight was his tear-stained face. Only when it felt like she couldn't possibly cry any more did the real world come crashing back around her.

She recognized the sound of sloshy liquid hitting the plastic table, and her boss's replying "Oh, come on!" Taking her first breath in what felt like forever, Pam turned around to find pancake batter dripping from Michael's apron onto the table below. She forcefully searched through the grocery bags for something to clean up the mess, again, but couldn't seem to find another roll of paper towels. Just as another batch of tears came flooding through her eyes, Pam felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Ryan holding a freshly-opened roll, and without looking him in the eyes, she reached out and ripped a few squares before focusing on Michael's spill. "Pam," her boss whispered, and she took a moment to glance at his concerned face. "I'm sorry."

Somehow, her lips formed a thin, pained smile and she got back to work. She had broken down in front of Michael more times than she would have ever wanted over the years, and he had always been there to silently put the biggest pieces back together. Of course, he never knew how to finish. He always skipped over the pieces that were as tiny as a grain of sand, because he didn't know where to put them. Jim had gotten close, but he couldn't seem to figure out the puzzle. Only one person in her life managed to heal her completely, but she never got the chance to repay the favor. She didn't even realize just how much he had repaired her until it was too late. Until she shattered his heart.

"Alright, I think we're done here," Michael announced, flipping his last pancake. "I'd say it was a pretty successful first day! Wouldn't you? We met some new possible clients, got a visit from some of our old friends up at Dunder Mifflin, and, bonus! We have lunch for the next couple weeks!"

"Mmm, undercooked pancakes," Ryan muttered beside her. The corners of her mouth managed to rise. He hadn't seen that pathetic excuse for a smile since Jim left for Stamford two years ago.

"Okay, slaves. Get this mess cleaned up." Pam sighed at her boss's order and heartlessly scooped up a handful of used paper towels and ruined flyers before heading toward the plastic garbage can. Ryan met her there, and called out as she turned back for their pancake table.

"Uh, Pam?" She didn't have the strength to turn around. "I think I can finish up out here. Why don't you go inside? You know, prepare our closet for Michael's triumphant return." He probably expected a smile, but she could only nod before walking into the once-friendly lobby of the Scranton Business Park. However, the glass doors that had once warmly invited her in were cold, their metal shapes demanding her to turn away. She didn't think it was possible for those doors to slam shut, but they rang out loudly as she walked inside, almost as if they were trying to warn Jim that she had entered. Trying to tell him to duck away and hide, because his awful fiancée had come inside. She turned and headed for her new office, the only thing that didn't scream Jim's name, finally letting the tears fall down her cheeks.

She didn't know when Ryan and Michael joined her. All of a sudden it was two hours later, and she was still sitting in the same chair, head resting on her arms, tears occasionally falling onto the felt poker table below. Ryan was tapping away at the laptop, undoubtedly creating another pointless spreadsheet, while Michael bored the camera crew with an unusual story about his dream the night before. Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later (she was counting), the phone rang, echoing loudly and remorselessly in their tiny closet of an office. She sniffled slightly and waited for Ryan or even Michael to make a move toward answering it. "Somebody get the phone," Michael called out. She glanced up at Ryan, but he was skillfully hiding behind his laptop screen. She groaned inwardly and reached for the receiver.

"Dunder Miff-- Michael Scott Paper Company, this is Pam." She cleared her throat and waited for the response. Probably a wrong number or Kevin prank-calling them from upstairs. For the twelfth time. She was surprised with the man's reply on the other end of her phone call. "Oh, hi Russell from the pancake luncheon, how are you?" Her eyes grew insanely wide as Michael perked up from his desk. Even too-cool-for-this-job Ryan glanced over with interest. "Well we'd like to do business with you too! How can I make that happen?"

"Keep going," Ryan whispered from the sidelines. She gave him her best "Thank you, Captain Obvious" look before turning her attention back to the phone conversation at hand. He shrugged before Michael interrupted yet again.

"Don't tell them we have free delivery." Both of her coworkers were now dangerously invading her personal space; shrinking closer by the second.

She covered up the mouthpiece before replying. "We already offered free delivery!"

"They don't know that!"

Ignoring her boss's demand, Pam put the receiver to her mouth once more. "Um, I can offer you free delivery on any order that you place today. Okay, twenty boxes? I can do… just a second." Grabbing the calculator from across the table and shoving Michael's hand away, she did some quick math before replying. "Twenty boxes at forty-three dollars a box. Okay, great!"

Ryan thrust a pad of paper in front of her nose. "Write it down." She hastily sketched out "20 $43/box" as Michael gave her more sound-proof sales advice.

"A guarantee of what?"

"Just say the word."

"And I," she began, unsure of where the sentence was headed. Ryan was still motioning for her to write more words on his sheet of paper, while Michael nudged her along with this "guarantee" nonsense. All she wanted to do was soak in a huge bathtub full of bubbles and bath salts and fruity-smelling shampoo. To wash away her confusions about Jim, and Ryan, and take away the stress of her lack of a career with her ex-whatever in their non-office, but instead she was being given brainless advice about a job she could perform blindfolded. With both hands tied behind her back. "I guarantee," she looked toward Michael for emphasis. He lit up like a Christmas tree. "that you will be satisfied! Cause your… satisfaction is our guarantee! We guarantee it… Well, we look forward to doing business with you too. Thank you, Russell."

The room was silent for what felt like hours before the two men beside her came alive. A chorus of yeses and oh my Gods and what just happeneds wrapped around her mind, like a surround sound system in her brain. Michael violently shook her shoulders, while Ryan's hand traced her own. "Pam!" Michael called into her ear. He was louder than she remembered. "We made a sale!"

Suddenly, everything that had gone wrong that morning seemed to melt away. Talk about your small victories. "We… we did it?"

"We did it!" he shouted in return, skipping around his desk in pure joy.

"No," Ryan's smooth voice cut through her silence. "_You _did it." His fingers brushed by hers again, and she softly took his hand in hers, squeezing slightly when he grinned in response.

"I did it."


	20. Chapter 20: Flashback

**Author's note:** Hey kiddos! This has probably been one of my favorite chapters to write so far. I just love writing as Ryan. Making him sound all desperate and nervous and cute (: hahah. hopefully you like reading it as much as I liked writing it! Love you guys lots.

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7:58. Ryan groaned as he paced around his living room. Nope, still way too early to be calling someone on a Saturday. He couldn't even understand why he was awake so early. Normally, his days off consisted of sleeping until noon and then meeting the guys for happy hour. Of course, today was different. Today he was going to ask Pam Beesly on a date.

He thought of the idea last night as he slipped into his bed around midnight. "I'm going to ask Pam out tomorrow," he announced to his empty apartment. He slid between the sheets of his cozy bed and laid back on the pillow before a thought hit him. _Oh my God, I'm going to ask Pam out tomorrow. _Immediately, all the hows and whens and wheres and _whys _became strong enough to prevent him from falling asleep. He did everything his mom used to do when he was a kid to make him fall asleep. Drink warm milk, read a boring novel, count sheep, take Excedrin PM. But nothing helped. He eventually dozed off around four in the morning, and woke up two hours and twenty-eight minutes later.

Four whole minutes had gone by as he reminisced about his lack of sleep the night before. At least it was past 8:00 now. That's not too early, right? He knew it was, but was too impatient and nervous to put the mission off any longer. He took a couple deep breaths and dialed, cursing himself for thinking that even her _phone number _was perfect.

He heard a faint yawn as his call was answered. "Hello?" the voice whispered on the other line. Crap. She sounded tired. He contemplated hanging up, but decided that he had made the first step already; might as well dive in.

"I, um, hi." Another yawn. "Oh man, did I wake you up? I'm sorry. I just-- I'll call you later."

"…Ryan?"

He tried to hide his excitement that she could recognize his voice, but a gigantic smile crossed his face anyway. _Cool it, Ryan. _"Yeah?" he squeaked, immediately rolling his eyes at the crack in his voice.

"Uh," she sighed. "What's up, temp?" She still sounded tired, but now there was a touch of frustration in her tone. _This was a bad idea._

"I, uh… Nothing. Nevermind. I'll see you on Monday I guess. Sorry for waking you up, I just… forget it. Sorry."

"Ryan," she interrupted, just as he went to hang up. "Are you really going to blow me off after waking me up at eight on a _Saturday?" _She did not sound amused. _This was a __**really **__bad idea._

"No, I just--"

"Come on, temp," she laughed gently, putting his mind at ease. "Just say it?"

"Okay," he sighed. _Deep breath… _"Would you want to meet me for a late breakfast? Or… early lunch? You know, whatever you want to call it…"

"Most people call it 'brunch.'"

"Yeah, okay," he laughed. He hoped she couldn't tell he was nervous as hell. "Brunch. So?"

"Ryan Howard, are you asking me on a date?" she teased. He let out a huge breath he didn't know he was holding. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

"No. I mean--" he groaned. She giggled softly. "Yeah. I guess I am. Yes." _And here comes the rejection… _

"Okay."

"Wh… What?" He had certainly not been expecting that."

"Yes, Ryan. I'd love to meet you for brunch… or whatever you call it."

"Really?" he squeaked. He sounded like a high school cheerleader getting asked to the prom by the quarterback hottie. She laughed again. _Way to flush your manliness right down the toilet on that one, Ryan. _"Uh, I mean… Yeah. I knew you were going to say yes, because… um, who would say no to this? Because, uh…"

"Ryan?" she interrupted. He was thankful. "You're not that guy."

"Right," he breathed. "So, the café on 16th? At say," he glanced at the clock. 8:12. How was she putting up with him right now? "Eleven?"

"Sounds great. See you there." He said goodbye and hung up, instantly collapsing onto his bed. He laid there for a few minutes, one single sentence running through his mind.

_She said yes._

Exactly two hours and thirty-two minutes later, Ryan was in his car, headed for the quaint café that would undoubtedly be the setting of the best first date of his life. He tried to keep his excitement under wraps, but quickly found it impossible to wipe the smile off his face. He had spent the remainder of his morning pacing around every room of his small apartment. First was the bedroom, where it took him a good half hour to decide on what to wear. Eventually, he decided that he had acted like a sixteen-year old girl long enough and pulled a pair of dark jeans and a light blue button down from his closet. He neglected his regular tie and sport coat, opting for a simple dark blue jacket instead. Then, he moved him impatience to his living room, attempting to find something to watch on cable, but nothing seemed to hold his interest. He groaned and wandered into his kitchen, content on distracting himself by making breakfast. However, as he sat down to eat the eggs and bacon he had prepared for himself, he realized that he'd be doing the exact same thing with Pam in a couple of hours. He begrudgingly dumped his plate into his dog's food dish. Roscoe would undoubtedly love this morning's treat.

Ryan put his car in park and slowly shut off the engine. 10: 52. Perfect. He checked his appearance in the rearview mirror one last time before heading inside. Pam hadn't arrived yet, which was probably a good thing. What kind of man arrived late for a first date? Certainly not the man he wanted to be. He slid into a small booth and switched his cell phone to "silent" before glancing over the menu board. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him, and checked his watch a second time. 10:53. Good God, if she didn't show up soon he was going to go crazy. A painstaking four and a half minutes later, Ryan felt a brief gust of wind and heard a metal door shut behind him. He turned around in his seat and saw Pam looking around the small café. The corners of his mouth lifted as he called out her name. The grin that appeared on her delicate face made his all the more noticeable. As she made her way over to his chosen table, he couldn't help but check her out. That may make him sound like a creep, but he was immediately taken with Weekend Pam. Her regular pencil skirt and cardigan had been replaced with dark blue jeans and a tight purple sweater. She was wearing shiny black heels instead of her normal "sensible footwear," and he couldn't help but think that her shoes clicking across the tile floor sounded better than any other pair of heels he had encountered. She had taken the clip out of her hair, and it was now hanging around her face in loose curls. Her normally make-upless face was ever-so-slightly enhanced with a touch of lip gloss and eye liner. She smiled as she bounced into the booth across from him, sliding her purse off her shoulder and grabbing a menu from the table.

"Hey," she gasped, rubbing her hands together in an unsuccessful effort to warm them up. She caught him staring, and tilted her head a little. "What?"

"I like you in jeans," he blurted, afterwards choosing to hide behind his small menu. She continued to look at him with that cute puzzled expression of hers, before brushing off the comment.

"Okay, weirdo. I like you in…" she trailed off as she looked over his ensemble. Suddenly, he was very self-conscious of his choice of clothing. "Button-down shirts."

"Oh, well, it's a good thing I wear them everyday then."

"Yes it is," she replied with a smile. A silence fell over the table then, and Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, know what you want yet?" he gestured to the forgotten menus in front of them.

"Oh," she gasped, startled by his comment. "Uh, I think I'm gonna have the cinnamon raisin bagel. With cream cheese. Ooh, and a fruit parfait!" He laughed. "What? Hey, this is technically my breakfast AND lunch. I'm allowed to have two things."

"I know, I know," he chuckled.

"Shut up!" she announced, embarrassed. "I'm hungry, okay?"

"Pam, you're having a bagel and fruit. That's hardly 'pigging out.'"

"Fine. Then add a blueberry muffin. Am I pigging out yet?"

"You're getting there," Ryan smiled. He hopped out of the booth and went toward the counter to place their orders. He decided to get them each a cup of coffee as well. He turned to ask Pam what she'd like on her latte, and found her staring back at him, her teeth biting into her perfectly pink lip. She turned away, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

"Uh, sprinkle of cinnamon. Actually, if you could just put cinnamon on everything, that'd be great." He shot her a questioning glance, and she simply smiled in return. Shaking his head, he turned to the young woman behind the counter.

"You heard her."

"You know," she began as he arrived back at their table, food piling on a flimsy tray that reminded him of his college days. "This is nice." He sent her a questioning glance as he set their random food items on the table. "Well, it's just… Roy never took me out like this. No breakfasts or brunches or lunches. Sometimes we'd get pizza for dinner with his brother, but that's about it."

"Pam, that's really sad," he said sympathetically.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Sometimes I can't remember why I was ever with him in the first place."

He didn't know how to reply. He could tell this conversation had taken a intense turn, and he wasn't sure whether to continue with a deep, insightful comment, or make a joke. He let the first words he could think of fall out of his mouth. "Yeah… Why were you?"

She looked into his eyes then, and his heart broke for her once more as he looked at the mixture of pain and regret stenciled into her features. "Well," she started, suddenly sounding defensive. "It wasn't all bad, you know. I mean, he did care about me. We were in love once… we fell out of it, I guess. But by then it was so simple to be with each other. I guess I felt safe with him. Like it wasn't too much of a risk. But before all that, we **did** love each other. At least, I _think _he was in love with me. Or… Or maybe he was in love with the idea of loving me. Maybe he knew we weren't right for each other too, but went along with it like I did. Because it was easy." He listened to her story, her voice sounding weak and small, and all he wanted to do was reach over and hold her like he did before. Tell her that everything would be okay. That he wanted to make her safe too, but not like Roy. He wanted to make her feel safe because he loved her, not because she wasn't a risk. _But you're not in love with her. _He wanted to run his hand through her hair and whisper sweet reassurances in her ear. But the damn table was too wide and he knew his short frame couldn't reach hers. So he simply shot her a soft smile and let his fingers rest on top of hers. She glanced up at him then, and turned her hand underneath his so their fingers linked together, running her thumb against his.

They stayed like that for a moment, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes. After a while, her other hand found its way to her bagel and she took a bite, licking the excess cream cheese off her lips before speaking to him. "So, your turn. Worst relationship story."

"Oh man, where to begin?" he joked before diving into the pathetic saga that was his dating life. They had easily transitioned from topic to topic, discussing the color of their bedroom walls to what they wanted to be when they "grew up." They never once talked about work, and with the exception of their first focus of conversation, didn't chat about their romantic lives. He wanted to question her about Jim; what he meant to her, whether she loved him. But she kept the conversation going and he never had a chance to ask. Maybe she did that on purpose. He didn't really mind, as long as she kept talking. He could listen to her talk for hours.


	21. Author's Note

…Hi you guys (:

So.. It's been almost six months. SIX MONTHS! I'm so sorry I'm a fail fanfiction author ): I could give you a bunch of excuses for why I ditched you for so long, but instead I think I'll give you a little present instead.

Starting tomorrow, I'll be giving you a post **EVERY DAY FOR A WEEK. **Hey, maybe after this you'll all like me again ;) Also! I don't know if you remember, but a while ago I mentioned that I started writing **two new **Office stories. So next Friday, after my week of updates, I'll post the first chapter from one of my new stories as a bonus!

I'd really like to thank you guys (if you're still out there) for sticking with me. And all the I'm really sorry for abandoning you guys, my story, and fan fiction altogether. But be on the lookout for chapter 21 tomorrow! I'm really excited about what's coming up, and I hope you are too :D

See you TOMORROW!


	22. Chapter 21: Present

**Author's note: **So, fail. Sorry ):):): My laptop freakin crashed and I lost all my files cause it's so stupid. I hated that little piece. But! Now I have a hopefully crash-free Macbook and it's seriously the most beautiful thing I've ever seen :D And I LOVE writing on it, so you won't have to wait long for posts ever again! Anyway, I had to rewrite everything and it took me so long to get them as good as they were before, which is why I haven't updated until now even though I promised a bunch of chapters a couple weeks ago. Sorry again ): Don't hate me!

Sooooo. While writing (and rewriting) all this, I feel like my "present" posts are moving along a lot faster than the "flashbacks." Just a heads up, you might get a couple flashbacks in a row if I'm done with the present and I've got like five extra flashbacks. Or maybe I'll combine a few flashback posts and you'll get super-long posts for a while. Or maybe everything will line up perfectly. I have no idea at this point, but I'll let you know if something comes up!

I guess it's been a while since my last disclaimer, so. I (very obviously) don't own anything.

* * *

"Oh, it's 5! I have to get to improv class! Alright, see you kiddos tomorrow," Michael stated as he stood up to leave. He paused by his employees' card table-desk and whispered "Feel better, Pammy," letting his hand rest on her shoulder for an uncomfortably long time. She simply smiled in return, and Michael turned for the door, shouting one final order of "Lock up when you take off!" before he left.

"Finally," she muttered, letting her head hit the green felt once more.

"Finally?" Ryan mocked. He knew, from past experience, that making Pam laugh was the one way to snap her out of depression. And the one way he could make her laugh was by mocking her or someone else around them. He didn't have pranks or funny looks to the cameras like Jim did. "What, you don't like being stuck in a closet with me and Michael all day?" A low growl was the only response she made. Although, it's possible she was talking and he couldn't hear her through the table. He didn't bother to ask for clarification. He simply placed his hand into hers, surprised when she didn't immediately pull away. "Right. Well hey, why don't you head home? I can close up tonight."

She squeezed his hand as a thank you, grabbed her purse, and slowly walked out of their office. The sky outside had turned an awful gray color, like it was ready to rain, but nothing would fall. She knew the feeling. She almost wanted the entire thing to crash down on her, but the clouds remained intact as she headed across the cold parking lot. Most of the hourly Dunder Mifflin employees' cars were already gone, but she recognized Dwight's dirt-covered Trans Am and Andy's perfect, shiny Prius still in their usual spots. Maybe the salesmen had to stay late. Technically, they were supposed to stay until the daily sales quota was reached, but Michael had always let them all leave at 5 o'clock everyday. He really was too nice for a boss. Pam arrived at her small Yaris, parked farther away than she remembered. In fact, the entire parking lot appeared longer than she had ever seen it. It seemed like whenever she was upset, everything looked as if it was big enough to swallow her up. She got out her keys, ready to wait inside her toasty car for Jim to be finished with work, when she noticed a small piece of paper underneath her windshield wipers. Confused, she searched her former coworkers' cars, but they were clean. If it was a flyer, everyone's windshields would be covered in sheets of paper. Pam grabbed the note and unfolded it.

Pam,

I asked Tom to pick me up after work. I just need to be… alone. For a while. I don't know how long. Maybe I'll see you tonight.

-Jim.

Over the years, she had cried over Jim more times than she could count. More times than she cried over Roy, more times than she cried over Ryan, more times than she cried over Ross and Rachel in that last episode. More times than she cried over anyone whose name started with an "R." Or any other letter of the alphabet. Of any alphabet. She cried when he kissed her during the casino night. When he left her for Connecticut. When he came back with a new girlfriend. When she said "We'll always be **friends**." and he didn't correct her. When he didn't come to her art show. When he finally told her why he left Scranton in the first place. When he ditched his job interview and asked her on a date. When he told her he loved her for the first time. When she had to spend her first night in New York, so far away from him. When he proposed. When he left her in the parking lot that morning. Granted, some of them were happy tears. Some of them were "Oh my God!" tears. Some were actual, gut-wrenchingly sad tears. Regardless, more tears were shed because of him than anything or anyone else in her life. This time, however, she couldn't cry. She knew that she should, she even wanted to. But no tears came to her eyes. Her knees should have felt weak, threatening to break unless she sat down. She shouldn't have been able to breathe; each deep gust of air was supposed to get caught in her throat before it could reach her lungs. But she just felt tired. Her car key wouldn't fit into the lock, so she simply sank to the ground, resting her head on the back tire. Her eyes refused to stay open any longer.

* * *

Closing up at the Michael Scott Paper Company didn't require a lot of work. Usually, both Ryan and Pam worked together, and they were out of the office in forty-five seconds. Tonight, Ryan was alone, so it might take a couple minutes longer. He shut off the coffee machine, shredded a few discarded files, and fed Michael's fish. "See your tomorrow, Luda," he sighed into the emptiness before shutting off the lights and locking the door. Michael had inappropriately named his pet "Fluffy," which Pam hated because it didn't fit and she was sort of a perfectionist. One day at lunch, while Michael was out with Todd Packer, she recruited Ryan, because she didn't have anyone else, he figured, to help come up with a different moniker for the thing. Honestly, he couldn't care less, but she seemed so excited that he couldn't say no. He turned on the radio and they bounced around a few ideas, going from Scaley, which they agreed was dumb but at least it fit, to Goldilocks, and then Bear, for her three counterparts. Pepper was next, because although it was a goldfish, if they looked close enough, they could see the small brown and white flecks on it's tail. But that turned into Dr. Pepper, because it was his favorite soda, and then Coca Cola, because it was her's. Eventually a rap song came blaring through the speakers on Michael's desk, and Pam swore the fish was dancing. Ryan said it was just swimming in circles, because what else would it do in a round fishbowl? But she insisted, and they named the pet "Ludafish," after the main artist on the song.

It had reminded him of when she tried to rename his dog, because "Roscoe isn't a good name for a girl!" Every time she went to his apartment after meeting his pet, she would suggest some weird, much-too-girly name, and he would never think twice about any one of them. With the exception of the dog's anatomy, everything about Roscoe screamed "male." Ryan told Pam that he was ninety-nine percent sure his dog was a lesbian anyway, if dogs could have different sexualities, and she responded with "Doesn't mean she shouldn't have a gender-appropriate name!"

Ryan let the memories put a smile on his face as he headed for the parking lot. He knew that they wouldn't be able to joke and mess around like they used to anymore, because she'd probably spend every second of her life trying to convince Jim to forgive her. And he will, once he stops being stupid. Because of _course _she loves him. Pam loves Jim. They're freaking PB&J, for God's sake.

And honestly, Jim thinks that Pam has feelings for _Ryan!_

That was the single most idiotic thing Ryan had ever heard. Can't Jim see that she's never had eyes for anyone but him? Can't he see that she's always belonged to him? Doesn't he know that "whatever she had with Ryan" ended because of HIM? It should have made Ryan feel good that Jim was worried Ryan could come between him and his goddamn soul mate. Ryan knew that he should have been glowing that Jim was jealous of HIS relationship with Pam. Like he isn't thinking the same thing every time Jim and Pam are together? Ryan should have taken advantage of both of them, Jim's insecurities and Pam's vulnerability. He knows that the old, cocky, "man-with-a-plan" version of himself would have, but at that moment he was too angry to even think about it. If Pam had stuck with him, hell yes he would have worried about Jim. He did, every second they were together. If they were ever "together," anyway. He was never worried about his stupid college friends, or Roy coming back, or Toby, even though she thought he was cute. Jim was the only person Ryan worried about, because he was always the only person in Pam's heart. So why the hell is Jim worried about anyone else? He wanted to go upstairs and knock some sense into the lumbering moron, but he knew that Jim wouldn't listen to him. Why would he?

Ryan looked down and noticed how tightly his hands were curled into fists. He took a deep breath, unwound his fingers, and pushed open the building door.

"Pam?"

* * *

"Pam! Are you okay!"

She squirmed under her captor's tight grip. "I'm fine…" she opened one eye. Of course. A sigh of relief escaped Ryan's lips, and he loosened his hold on her shoulders. She noticed that he didn't remove it completely. She shouldn't have felt comforted by that. "Can you get my keys? I need to… I just wanna go…" Her head felt light and she couldn't think.

She saw him look around and grab her keys off the ground a few feet away. "What happened?"

She wanted to lie to him, to say that she simply tripped on her way to the car, or that she decided to sit outside and enjoy the weather, or that she was waiting for Jim, like she was going to, but out of nowhere, all of the things that she hadn't felt before came rushing out of her. All of a sudden, a flood of tears escaped her eyes. She tried to stand, but her knees gave out and she fell into Ryan's waiting arms. He held her, on the ground of the parking lot, while she tried to catch her breath. "Pam?" She tried to talk to him, but her voice wouldn't make any sound. She probably didn't have enough air in her lungs to utter a word, anyway. Somehow her shaky hand made its way into his, and he took Jim's letter from her grasp. She watched as he slowly unfolded the paper, and pressed her head into his chest as he read the words on the page.

"Oh, Pam."

* * *

Jim watched the scene unfold before him. He knew he shouldn't have been watching her through the conference room window, but he wanted to make sure she got home safe. That she still had the car keys. Or something. He worried when she collapsed onto the cement, and he knew he should go down and make sure she was okay in case something had happened, but his feet wouldn't move from their place in front of the window. It didn't matter, because not a second later, Ryan exited the building and ran to her side. Like a freaking love-sick puppy dog. She reached for him and he pulled her close, rubbing her hair and whispering into her ear. They stood up, never leaving each other's arms, somehow, and he walked her to the passenger side of her car. Pam hates sitting on the passenger side. Jim's kind of taken over that chair, and she didn't like the way he adjusted the lumbar support and how far from the dashboard he pushed the seat. But when Ryan put her in the car, she complied without a struggle. Jim watched as Ryan carefully shut her car door, and ran a hand through his badly-dyed hair as he slid into the driver's side and started the car. He didn't need to move the mirrors or the seat even a centimeter, which Jim was sure Pam liked, and the pair drove out of the parking lot.

_Yeah, _Jim thought bitterly. _She doesn't have feelings for Ryan._


End file.
